Blind Endeavours: Part 1 Concerto in D Minor
by Wiz-Chic
Summary: Sherlock/OC. Part 1 of a 10 part series. Sherlock is Sherlock, as usual, and Madeline Smith's life doesn't make any sense. When he marches his way into it, Sherlock finds himself caught off guard and challenged in ways he never could have observed. COMPLETE.
1. Sherlock Block

**PLEASE READ BEFORE BEGINNING:**

**This is a 10 part series of a Sherlock/OC fanfiction. Each part will have multiple chapters. The ratings of each part will vary.**

**The beginning of this series will go through the series then I will continue after the Reichenbach Fall, so BEWARE there are spoilers all around if you haven't seen both seasons. Part 1 starts at the absolute beginning of A _Scandal in Belgravia_.**

**Each part is titled with a piece of Classical music, said piece sort of serves as a backdrop to each of the parts and I will link it to my main profile page at the start of each part in case you want to hear what I was listening to while writing.**

**Lastly, this goes for the WHOLE series, I DO NOT OWN ANYTHING OTHER THAN Madeline Smith, my original character. Everything else is for Doyle, and Lords Moffat and Gaitiss.**

**Enjoy my fellow Sherlockians, this is for each and every one of you. **

**EDIT: Go to my main profile page for links to the song, and for the poster for part 1. **

* * *

**Blind Endeavours.**

Part 1 – Concerto in D Minor for Two Violins  
(By: Johann Sebastian Bach)

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Sherlock Holmes' blue silk robe blew behind him violently as he paced back and forth within 221B. John Watson casually cleared his throat and turned a page of his newspaper as his closest friend let out his usual frustrations…. As usual.

"An affair! Of course her husband was having an affair! Look at the state of her!" He growled in a deep baritone. "And those little girls- how can you be so _ignorant_ as to **not**understand that in death, you're burned! No cases! Everyone is so _dull-_"

"Sherlock-"

"And what a moron, does it matter what type of ash is in an urn? Hm? Tell me John, I could fill it with basmati rice and it wouldn't matter because his wife would still be dead!"

"Alright, that's enough Sherlock!" John exclaimed, finally fed up with his friend's behavior. "Are you sure this doesn't have anything to do with that case you couldn't solve last week?"

Sherlock stopped pacing and looked at his friend with absolute innocence, his eyebrows softening and his chin protruding out, "pardon?"

"Oh come on now Sherlock, you've been upset ever since I posted about the man who's body we couldn't find in his car-"

"I have _not_ been upset." He growled and pouted, vaulting his body on the couch moodily.

"Yeah, yeah I can tell…."

Sherlock Holmes closed his eyes and calculated John's movements by his other senses.

Davidoff Coolwater cologne- he has a date tonight.

New razor to shave- someone new, then.

Met her at the bar last week, mentioned her name that morning- Jeanne? Jane? He shook his head.

Didn't matter.

John's tone in speaking about her- casual. No long-term possibility.

Intentions? Stability. To find stable time since losing Sarah and the great game. Sherlock snorted. Stable?

_Dull._

Girls profession if purpose of being stable- a doctor? No. John wouldn't go with two doctors in a row. Possibly an office worker, teacher, or librarian. Job title regardless. Probability of the relationship lasting beyond Christmas- unlikely.

Probability of Sherlock disliking said girl- extremely likely.

"What plans with Jeanne then?" Sherlock said but received no response. He turned around on the couch to find 221B empty.

How long _had _he been laying there? He shrugged as he rose to his feet. Irrelevant.

Sherlock strode towards John's computer and was pleased to realize he'd changed the password on it once again. He began to bounce his knees typing in numerous possibilities:

_Sherlock_

_Sarah_

_Jumpers_

_StrawberryJam_

After those tries Sherlock's eye locked on to the newspaper beneath the laptop, he found himself rolling his eyes dramatically. Confidently he typed:

_Deerstalker._

Not a moment later was he up on his site, _The Science of Deduction_.

No. …No. …No. …No. BORED. …No.

Sherlock shut down each possibility in his messages. Everything from a husband who was certain his wife was trying to poison him to a child who'd lost her favorite pair of earrings. However, at the end of the list, Sherlock found himself pausing. This wasn't a case to solve, _not necessarily, _but the message… something in the message caught his eye.

It was strange.

So strange.

Improbable, really. A long shot, by any means.

He sat up in his chair properly and ran the tips of his fingers across his soft cupids bow and re-read.

_Dear Mister Holmes,_

_First, I just have to say I'm a big fan. I am in a little bit of a problem, though. This isn't what you usually handle but I do need some help. I seem to have misplaced a coffee urn. You see, I'm working at The Coffee Stop in Colorado and I can't seem to find where I placed it. I mean, how do you lose a coffee urn, right? Anyways, my sister Madeline, who also works with me, suggested that I message you to ask. What's the harm right?_

_Any help would be nice._

_Michael Smith._

John walked into the flat with a white bag in his hand. He sighed upset, of course he'd figured out the password to his computer- again.

Sherlock's neck snapped towards John as he took a moment to look. Simple- new jumper for date tonight. Brown. Patterned- possibly, hard to tell from that angle. Discounted at local flea market. Looking to save cash in order to pay for more expensive dinner tonight. Ah, so he's looking to impress her then. 2 months since last girlfriend therefore purpose of new girl not just to have stability- but to get laid. …Tonight

John looked at Sherlock curiously, having only stepped into the apartment for a moment yet having the distinct feeling that he was being deduced… yet again. "Sherlock?"

"Pack your bags." Slapping his long fingers on the desk, "John, we're going to America." Before adding with a lopsided grin, "tonight."

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**Hope you all enjoyed it! I promise it'll get more interesting. Swear on it.**

**Please do lemme know if you're there, comments are always greatly appreciated.**

**Much love fellow Cumberbabes and Sherlockians.**


	2. The Rudest Man in the World

**Same disclaimers still apply.**

**Enjoy!**

* * *

Louisville, Colorado

Madeline Smith watched intently through the window, the cool winter wind blowing against her cheek. The young girls were learning their double pirouettes at a fast rate. It seemed that good dancers came younger and younger these days, much to Madeline's dismay. At only 24, she knew her days as a ballerina were long over when she chose a paint brush over pointe, but she had recently felt a sudden ache in the tip of her toes, begging her to pique again.

When she finally reached the coffee shop, her morning was the same as any other. She opened the shop with her brother. Took down the chairs, wiped the tables, heated the coffee cakes.

It was like any other morning in the small town of Louisville, Colorado. A town where everything stayed the same. Where nothing happened.

5 hours into her shift she was taking orders to the same old regulars that came in for a lunch time coffee break. Mr. Mortimer was in his usual corner with his plain black coffee and milk; Mrs. Gardner was sipping on Lemonade with Ms. Horbin- the town gossip. BUt that was un unfair title for Ms. Horbin- as everyone in the town was a gossip. Madeline could point out every single person who walked into her family's coffee shop. She could tell you their life story and every little detail about them… as well as knowing what they said about her.

Poor little Madeline Smith and her big brother Michael, Both their parents died in a car crash years ago. With her long brown hair, full lips, petite frame and honey brown eyes- Madeline was always believed to be far too different to stay in Louisville. But she stayed. Stayed for her brother who was a recovering alcoholic. Stayed to help run the shop with him. Stayed to maintain the house of her childhood. Even turned down a full ride to a ballet conservatory, instead went to a nearby college for art and English. Poor Madeline Smith, what a sad case that girl was. Destined to live and die in Louisville, just like everyone else…

It was 3:40 pm when Madeline had her first disturbance for the day. She sat near the register reading _'On the Road'_ by Jack Kerouac when whispers spread throughout the shop.

"Maddy, you've got a visitor." Michael said from behind her. Madeline watched as a tall man with blonde hair, high cheekbones, full lips and deep dark eyes walked through the front door straight to her at the cash register. He was taking his time, clearly enjoying his 30 seconds of fame.

"What do you want, Danny?" Madeline inquired.

"What, no hello?" He flashed her his infamous smile. A smile she'd grown up with seeing. A smile that still could make her weak in the knees.

She sighed slightly aggravated, "Hello, Danny. Now, what do you want?"

"I just came in to see you."

"Clearly."

"Can we please just talk?"

"Can we not do this here?"

"Why does it matter, everyone's going to find out anyways-" He countered, gesturing to the rest of the shop that was staring at them with casual intent.

"Just, be at my house at 5, ok? We'll talk there."

Danny sighed, he'd take what he could get. "Alright Maddie-cakes." He leaned in uninvited and placed a kiss on her forehead just as the bell on top of the front door rang, indicating that someone had entered. Madeline closed her eyes as his lips touched her forehead. They were cold but familiar.

Just as Danny walked out the door, his eyebrows raised to the site of two of the strangest looking men at the door. Madeline finally opened her eyes as she heard Danny leave the shop, only to be met with the same sight. There stood two men who'd just realized that everyone in the shop was looking at them. The room had gone silent. Almost no one ever visited Louisville, Colorado unless it was a close friend or family member, and most of them lived nearby.

The first man was considerably shorter than the other. He had sandy blond hair and a beige sweater on with a green jacket over holding a piece of paper in his hand as he looked around uncomfortably. This was a considerable difference than his friend… his friend who Madeline found herself staring at without even noticing. He was a creature unlike anything she'd ever seen.

He was tall, towering over the other. Menacing. With his dark hair, bright eyes, pale skin and ultra high cheekbones. His lips were full yet remained comfortable on his face as he observed the place surrounding him, seemingly taking in every detail with one fell swoop. His jacket must have been expensive, as was the purple shirt beneath it and the scarf wrapped around his neck. Nobody around here dressed that fancy. Even his friend's wardrobe was economized. He seemed to either not be aware of the eyes that were on him, or he simply didn't care. And there he stood, the strangest creature to have ever walked into The Coffee Stop- no, not just this shop, in all of Louisville.

He strode towards her and made direct eye contact; Madeline found herself at a loss for words; who was this man? He was so new... so fresh... so- different.

And she liked it.

"Miss Madeline Smith, I presume?"

She lifted her eyebrows; his voice was deep. Deep and _British. _She'd never heard that accent outside of movies and she'd never heard a voice that dark- _ever_. It created a stirring in the pit of her stomach that had once been unknown. "Uhm, yes." She replied finding her voice. A quick close lipped smile arose on his face, his eyes bright and penetrating and observing her. Ever little bit of her- she feared.

"Black, two sugars. My friend here would like any food if you've got it. And while you're at it- would you mind re-wiping off that table in the corner there? It seems you've missed a spot- and that's me being delicate, by spot I mean you've missed the whole table, it's a mess. And I have no intention of reclining in the remnants of other peoples past digestions. Please feel free to do your job."

With that, he flashed her another false smile, threw a $20 bill on the counter and strode to the back corner table. His friend stayed an extra moment and gave her an apologetic smile before following after him leaving Madeline with her book in her hand and her jaw open in shock.

"Oh my God! Do you know who that is?" Michael hissed as he came beside her drying a coffee cup as he watched both men take a seat. "That's Sherlock Holmes and Dr. Watson! Oh my god, I can't believe they came! I gave him the silliest message ever- and he came! Oh, wow…" His voice turned soft and full of admiration. "what a nice man." He turned his eyes to Madeline anxiously as he watched her awed face, he wrapped his hand around her wrist, shaking her excitedly. "What did he say? What was he like? Tell me everything!"

Madeline took a deep breath, finally moving her eyes from the now empty space in front of her towards her older brother, "That man is the rudest, most vulgar creature I have **ever** had the displeasure of coming face to face with." Michael stared at her expectedly, it wasn't out of Madeline's character to have such strong opinions. "You like him so much?" She said pushing the pad and paper towards Michael, "You serve him. I'm going home early, I'm meeting Danny. I think you can close up."

With that she closed her book, clutching it tightly in her hand and popped off her stool.

Sherlock and John watched intently as she walked out the back door without giving them a second look. John looked at Sherlock pointedly who looked rather innocent and confused.

"…Not good?"

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**Yay for chapter two! I miss writing London already :-( Don't worry though, this story is not taking place in Colorado, we'll be back to England in no time!**

**If you would, please do comment, I adore them with every bit of my pieces.**

**Love times a million to all of you my lovelies :D**


	3. The Beast

**Same disclaimers still apply.**

**Enjoy!**

* * *

Michael sat with a smile plastered on his face. The shop had been closed early on account of his excitement. He simply couldn't handle himself as he sat at the table between two men that he'd only seen in pictures with the funny hats.

"Would you mind? Your staring is irritating." Sherlock commented, but this only made Michael's eyes gloss over as he stared at Sherlock more intently.

"I can't believe you came all the way here!" He exclaimed, "You don't understand- nothing _ever_ happens around here! And here you are- Sherlock Holmes and Doctor John Watson- _all the way from London!_" He placed a horridly false British accent on as he said the last phrase making John wince and Sherlock lightly grumble and groan in agony. "Wow… just… wow."

A moment of silence passed between the three men as Sherlock slightly rolled his eyes to the side, a curl sweeping across his forehead. John, knowing this look meant he was taking a short trip in his mind to get away from Michael in order to not strangle him, took the opportunity to try and speak up, "So this coffee urn-"

"I mean you two really have served as an inspiration for me." Michael gushed, John let out an irritated sigh, the jet lag still catching up with him, but placed a kind smile on his face.

"How so?"

"I mean, the both of you, out and proud as a gay couple." Michael places his palm over his chest, "…you really have inspired me to do the same. Well, if I were in a relationship at least."

John squinted his eyes at the young man, "You know, I'm not _actually _gay. I actually have a girlfriend, Jeanette-"

"Oh Doctor Watson," Michael said with a knowing smile and a lift of an eyebrow, "don't we all?" He winked at the short man. John turned his upset attention to Sherlock who was observing the town from out the window.

"Sherlock, any comments?" John said. But Sherlock remained silent, a slight grin threatening to make itself known on his lips.

"So, Michael," Sherlock commanded finally turning to the young man with harshly frosted blond tips, "tell me about your sister."

* * *

By the time Madeline reached her home Danny was already waiting on the steps with a batch of tulips in his hands. He stood up at the sight of her and flashed her a full smile. "For you."

"Oh…" She placed a smile on her face as he kissed her cheek, "Thanks."

Inside the house, Danny made himself comfortable adjusting himself on the couch across from Madeline. "Do you want anything? Coffee? Tea?"

"No, I'm fine."

Madeline was disappointed with his answer as she was hoping to get away for a moment to the kitchen in order to avoid any further awkwardness that was taking place. "so…"

A moment of silence passed.

"Maddie… what happened?" Danny inclined forward in his chair.

"What do you mean?"

"Maddie, don't do this-"

"Do what?"

"Our wedding-"

"Yeah-"

"That was last week?"

"Yeah, so what? What's your point?" She crossed her arms nonchalantly.

Danny looked at her incredulously, "You ran away right before the reception!"

"I didn't _run away_, I jumped out the window." She corrected him.

"It doesn't matter how you did it, Maddie-"

"Semantics can matter-"

"Not this time." He was stern in his reply as he stared at her.

It's not that Madeline Smith didn't have a conscience for what she'd done, because she did. As soon as she'd ran out of the window of the chapel, ran a mile across the cemetery, and climbed the 100 feet up the stairs to the top of the water tank where she sat for hours in her wedding dress eating a piece of her wedding cake that she'd taken a handful of (literally, with her hand) before she'd escaped while watching everyone gossip at the wedding she'd just abandoned…

She'd then realized her actions might've had a ripple effect. She hadn't moved though. She continued to sit and finished her hunk of wedding cake numbly, chocolate and vanilla spread messily all over her mouth wile wondering what the _hell_ was wrong with her.

"Listen, Danny, I already said I was sorry- I really am."

"I know Maddie, and you just got stage fright- and that's _totally normal._"

"I don't think it was stage fright, Danny-"

"Yes, Yes it was." He leaned forward and grabbed her hands in his, "And I think we can get it right this time! It'll be just me and you and the church- nothing and no one else. Your brother doesn't even have to be there-" He held out the engagement ring she'd sent back to him just a day after their first attempted wedding. She looked at him and felt her heart drop as he had so much hope in his eyes. "…please?"

Just then, like clockwork, the front door slammed open and (much to Madeline's surprise) in walked the same gigantic-beast (as she liked to refer to him) from the café. He narrowed his bright eyes and looked between the two of them, his eyes only resting just for a moment on the ring in Danny's palm. He tilted his head downward and raised his eyebrows with barely an inch and in a low inquisitive voice that held just a pinch of playfulness, he commented, "Interrupting something?"

Michael ducked from under the man's outstretched arm that was still holding the door open for his other friend who'd joined them inside. Madeline noticed how the beast towered over everyone in the room. "Oh don't mind them-" Michael began to say until he saw the site before him, his eyes uncomfortably staring at the ring in Danny's hand. "Oh."

"Is this a bad time?" The short blond man said politely. Madeline had reserved herself to like him very much. She wondered how he'd ever become friends with the beast. "If it is we can certainly come back later and let you continue-"

"Nonsense, John." The beast commented. "I think our timing is perfect." He had a light smile on his face.

"Excuse me," Danny said irked as he stood up. He placed the ring back in his pocket. Danny was 5'10" and towered over Madeline's 5'4" petite frame, but that still didn't manage to out-menace the beast who still stood a good 4 inches over Danny. The beast seemed unphased, even excited at the challenge as he raised his eyebrows and a light smile overtook his lips. "You are interrupting us and no, your timing is horrible. Just who the hell are you and what are you doing here?"

"Sherlock Holmes. This is my friend John Watson." John gave an awkward wave at Danny and Madeline.

Danny chuckled and Madeline winced, she knew what was coming. "_Sherlock Holmes_?" he taunted, "Is that seriously your real name?" He was becoming the bully again. The bully he'd been throughout elementary school, middle school, and high school. But once he'd come home from college he'd fallen in love with the nerdiest girl in town, Madeline, whom he'd once ambushed with water balloons during prom but was now begging to marry. He'd grown out of his bullying… for the most part.

Madeline dared to look at Sherlock, the beasts, face. She could've sworn she saw a flash of being upset flash in his eyes but it was soon replaced with something else… something more wicked.

"Why yes, that is my name. No need to ask you yours, though." He replied coolly, managing to look nonchalant with his collar popped up.

"Oh yeah?" Danny challenged.

A fire burned in Sherlock's eyes as his word came roughly from the back of his throat, "yeah." He took a casual step towards Danny; Madeline stood up. She could tell- this man was in attack mode and he wasn't going to give up until he had Danny on his knees. "You're quite simple to figure out. The small town mild man- nothing extravagant but not simple enough. You have mild good features, a mild temperament, and in this small town you're like a god amongst children. The mocking tone in your voice suggests that you were once the jock-bully stereotype, oh but old habits _do _die hard, don't they? As of course your past faults seep in to your daily activities without knowing it. You were once in a big city, most likely for university, but was struck by reality when suddenly you realized you weren't the biggest man in the world- therefore resolving yourself to come back here in order to raise your recognition back to what it was when you were younger. And what better way to start over than to date the girl who you bullied relentlessly but whom still could never shake off the intense crush that she had on you?" He quirked an eyebrow, "Quite the fairytale, wouldn't you say? And as to the timing with my interruption, I do still stand by it as it _was_ right on time."

He took another menacing, yet satisfied step forward towards Danny as everyone watched and listened intensely, "By the state of that ring I'd say it was worn before, but not in the past as it is a recent model versus a vintage one, considering who you were handing it to, I'd say this was your second time giving her the ring. But it wasn't going as well as you'd thought I'm afraid as her body posture indicated something very different than willingness. Her knees were practically strapped together, her eyebrows furrowed and her fingers strung together, if she were to even agree to your re-proposal there it would have been out of a sense of guilt for what she'd done to you. This is, of course, the easy part. Since being in the town for all of 2 hours, I've heard nothing but whispers of a runaway bride on her wedding day that was no more than a week ago. …I daresay we've come across the famed couple, but I don't take credit for that seeing as how it is such a small town, running into the smart woman and unfortunate man would only be a matter of time. So yes, my timing was perfect with my interruption because, had your little re-proposal gone on, it would have ended in one of two ways- either she'd deny you and make up a sad excuse as to why she couldn't again, or she'd simply say she'd have to think about it, therefore delaying the inevitable awkwardness when she'd have to deny you. The latter, of course, is more likely considering her seemingly obvious nature of having other people's lives effect her own more than she effects it herself. Oh and by the way, she _hates_ being called Maddie."

The room stood in silence. Everyone seemed to be on pause, except for Sherlock, who was looking expectantly at Danny, waiting for him to recollect himself and retaliate. Michael looked at Sherlock as though he'd just watched his favorite band in the world perform, John had his eyes lowered in an exhausted manner as though he'd seen this show a hundred times before, flame seemed to burn in Danny's eyes as he looked shocked and caught of guard- but nevertheless, angered. Madeline's face burned with embarrassment, half of her wanted to walk up to The Beast and slap him across his mouth. That second to last comment had stung her hard… harder than she'd been stung in a long while.

This man seemed to know everything- seemed to get _everything._ Michael wasn't kidding about him. He said he was this consulting detective who could tell almost everything about every situation and person by just _observing. _She'd been joking when she'd suggested he message this Holmes guy, thinking he was just some hack someone had made up. But he literally was _everything_ Michael had said he was… and she hated it.

Madeline felt as though she'd stood there for an hour, it wasn't until she felt a cold ring place in her hand that she came face to face with Danny's red face, "Just, think about it, we'll talk later, okay?" His voice was shaking with anger. Words were never really Danny's strong suit and this Beast was _all _about words, it seemed. Danny knew he couldn't win this battle.

Danny shoved past Sherlock and slammed the front door on his way out. Madeline looked at the ring in her palm and wrapped her fingers around it, clutching it tightly. She gave a disturbingly angry look towards Michael for inviting the Beast into her home before turning around and marching her way outside to the backyard. Even though she'd been avoiding it, she managed to catch site of the Beasts face and was even more angered to find that he looked... _confused._

_Genuinely_ confused.

Once she reached the grass she heard her name being called behind her, but she didn't pay attention. She'd never been more insulted in her whole life.

Finally, Michael caught up with her forcing her to stop. "Maddie- Madeline, wait! Please!"

"What do you want Michael? Isn't your idol in there waiting for you? Hm? Why don't you go spend some time with him and go find your **freaking coffee urn! **After all, he did come all the way from England for it! Find it then he can leave! I want him out of our house- I will not be in the same room with that Bea-"

"He's not here for me Maddi- Madeline…" Madeline looked at him expectantly. It was weird hearing her full name released from someone's mouth. She'd been called Maddie for so long by everyone in the town that she'd never _realized_ that, actually, well… she _didn't _like it.

But the Beast knew.

_…How the **hell** did he know?_

"Then who is he here for, hm?" She didn't realize the contempt in her voice as she spoke, it slightly shook. She think a part of her feared his answer, in a way, however improbable it was, she already knew what it was going to be.

Michael's brows furrowed in worry. "He's here for…" a pause. "Maddie he's here for you."

* * *

**Yay for a long chapter!**

**Just on a side not, in my story I _really_ want to keep Sherlock _in_ character. So you're not going to see mushy gushy Sherlock that's SO ooc that we barely see who he was in the show. I'm going to portray him as I believe Benedict does, as accurately as I can. That means all cruelness and obliviousness is included... but so are those moments of remorse. **

** I love each and every one of you who have been commenting and following this story, seriously, it means the absolute world to me. I do this all for you, because I love this sherlock fandom SO much xoxo**

Don't forget to comment if you can my lovelies :D 


	4. London Calling

**Same disclaimers still apply.**

**Enjoy!**

* * *

Sherlock watched, confused, as Madeline marched out the back door with Michael hot on her heels. Absolutely astonished, Sherlock turned to John who looked more than a little peeved.

"…not good?"

"NO." John growled, "No Sherlock- not good. **Definitely** not good-"

"But isn't it kinder to help her get out of the awkward predicament that she was in rather than let it continue-"

"Yeah, but not by flaunting her flaws in front of everyone!" John's fact was beginning to turn an alarming shade of red, "You basically burnt her fiancé to a crisp-

"ex-fiancé-"

" and said that she _lets other people run her life for her-_"

"Well, yes, aside from her running away from that dreadful predicament-"

"A marriage-"

"Yes, it seems she has." Sherlock said as a matter of factly, _still _not understanding what it was that he'd done wrong.

"You don't-" John let out a desperate breath as he looked down and rubbed his face momentarily before looking back up with a calmer tone to his voice, "Sherlock… that wasn't very kind what you just did."

Sherlock, although still not understanding why, understood that it _wasn't_ having a good effect. "Oh."

"Yes, _oh,_ and also, on another thing- I cannot believe you dragged me all the way here for a freaking coffee urn-"

"Oh John," Sherlock commented nonchalantly giving a light chuckle, "How simple this trip must be for you."

John stared at Sherlock for a moment or two before bringing his palm up next to his face, blinking rapidly, "simple? For me?"

"Yes, as always you see but do not observe. For you to be foolish enough to agree to travel all this way here-"

"Sherlock-"

"all along with the thought that this is for a simple coffee urn-"

"Sherlock-"

"Your mind, so simple, so infantile-

"SHERLOCK-"

"How vacuous and dim-witted you must feel-"

Just as John was going to have another go at Sherlock, Madeline and Michael walked in slowly through the back door. A satisfied smile arose on Sherlock's face as he lowered his voice considerably to John, "We're not here for the urn."

John raised his eyebrows in confusion, "Then… what are we here for?"

As soon as the brother and sister reached the living room, Sherlock took charge of the situation and seated himself on the couch, patiently waiting for the rest to join him. Michael immediately took a seat right next to Sherlock, making the man highly uncomfortable. This made John smile greatly… seemed like someone had a bit of a crush on Sherlock.

As soon as Madeline and John were settled across from them, silence fell in the room. Sherlock was blatantly staring at Madeline, his piercing gaze making her uncomfortable.

"You gunna apologize, or anything?" Madeline asked crossing her arms, Sherlock replied by raising his eyebrows at her, genuinely surprised at how much gumption this girl had.

John knew the apology wasn't coming, Sherlock Holmes almost never apologized. "Well, I'm sorry Madeline, if it's any consolation." Madeline smiled at John; she'd let it slide… this time.

"So… you think I stole the urn or something?" She finally said. Sherlock quirked his eyes at her as though to say, _you really think that?_

"No, no…surely not." John said quickly. "We're not even here for-"

"What has been your relationship been like?" Sherlock interrupted. Madeline stared him down, deliberately not answering right away. She hated that he cut off John.

"Her relationship…. With… the urn?" Michael replied, entirely confused. Sherlock rolled his eyes only to receive another scolding look from John. Sherlock cleared his throat, changing his demeanor.

"No, her relationship with _you_, Michael." Sherlock replied, attempting to be patient.

"…I love the way you say my name." Michael whispered lightly under his breath, staring at the detective. Sherlock looked sideways at the man, undeniably annoyed. John snorted.

"What do you mean?" Madeline said, giving Michael a heated stare for his absurdly flirtatious actions. "Michael's my big brother. Our parents dies in a car crash 10 years ago, we've lived together ever since."

Sherlock raised his eyebrows, "Big brother… is that so?"

Madeline stared at Sherlock before turning her eyes to her older brother, who was looking suddenly uncomfortable, "… yeah, it is."

"Madeline," Sherlock spoke, "your hair- brown, your eyes- brown, skin- light brown-"

"So? So is Michael's." John countered.

"The skin, yes, but the eyes, the hair… the nose, the bone structure, everything else never seemed… out of place?"

Madeline's heart began to slowly drop, she could feel the blood pumping in her veins, her eyes watering over. "…what?" She whispered.

"Madeline," Sherlock's voice had grown soft as he leaned forward towards her, "Have you seen any photos of your mother pregnant with you? Any photos of you being born? Or right after you were born?"

The tears began to unconsciously fall down her cheeks. She felt a hand on her back and realized it was John's. Madeline supposed she'd always known, deep down. She'd always been different, felt a little left out… "Madeline..." Michael said softly grabbing her hands. She looked at him with furrowed eyebrows.

"Doesn't it bother you, Madeline, that the beginning of your life doesn't make _any_ sense?" Sherlock challenged.

"Michael, what's he saying?"

"You're adopted!" Sherlock smiled, "You're _her!_" He confirmed excitedly, he turned to John, " No such thing as coincidence! Incredible John, _incredible_, truly, it was a one in a million shot- but we've found her!"

"Sherlock!" John hissed, "…_timing!"_

Without a moment to spare Madeline ripped her hand out of Michael's and ran away. John was certain at a time like this that she'd run upstairs but, strangely, Madeline ran to the kitchen; it took Michael a moment or two before running after her.

"Sherlock…" John asked cautiously, "who is she?"

He took a moment and smiled as he looked at her framed picture on the coffee table, picking it up, "Someone _new._"

* * *

Madeline continued to sob as she grabbed the French baguette cutting it in half.

"Maddie-" Michael began.

"Don't call me that!" She screamed turning to him, pointing the knife. "You… You… I don't even know who you are!"

"What are you _talking_ about? I'm still Michael, I'm still your brother!"

"Oh yeah? And how long have you known that I was adopted? Huh?" She sliced the baguette in half and grabbed the cinnamon sugar, throwing handfuls of it on the open bread.

"Listen, Maddie- Madeline… When I was five I begged mom and dad for a little sister. Apparently, mom couldn't have any more kids after having me since there were… complications with my birth." Michael watched as Madeline grabbed the syrup and drenched the whole baguette with it before pushing both sides of it together. She grabbed the long sandwich and moved to the table taking a large bite out of it, the syrup messily dripped down her chin, mixing with her tears that wouldn't stop flowing. He took a seat next to her and continued speaking in a calm voice. "That summer we went to England to go visit a family friend, my parents had told them about the complications they were having… and they had known of a couple that wanted to give their child up for adoption, then we… came back home, here… with you."

Michael watched her silently for a moment or two as she continued to eat her "sad day sandwich" as she liked to call it. He'd never had the heart to comment that eating a whole baguette went well beyond being _just_ a sandwich.

"I still love you to the moon, Mads-poo." He saw the little smile as he called her nickname for her when they were kids.

He got up realizing she wasn't going to immediately respond and retrieved a pint of Ben & Jerry's Americano Dream from the freezer with a large serving spoon. Madeline immediately opened the pint and scooped a large ball of ice cream out of the container and put it in her sandwich. She took another large bite and Michael waited a moment before speaking again. "Say it, bitch…" Michael egged on playfully, she tried to hold back her smile but couldn't help the giggle. "Sayyy ittt…"

Her cheeks blushed as she looked down at her hand which Michael had grabbed, "I love you to the moon too, Mikey-poo." He kissed her cheek.

"I don't care what any papers say, you're my baby sister, and I'll always be your big brother." Madeline returned his smile softly and put down the almost finished baguette. She couldn't stay angry with him. They'd lived for so long just the two of them, she'd taken care of him when he was recovering from alcohol, stood by him when he came out of the closet, and he'd been there for her when she'd turned down her full ride to the ballet conservatory and when she ran away from her wedding. They'd been through everything together. He would never deliberately hurt her, and she knew that… he'd always be her big brother. But still she didn't know who she was, and that fact alone was enough to unsettle her to her core.

"…So why is the beast here?" She asked quietly, "you said he's here for me. For what, just to out my adoption? Why?"

"That and a lot more." A deep voice said from the door. Sherlock and John had entered the kitchen without them realizing. As to how long they'd both been standing there- neither Madeline nor Michael knew. "There's a lot to know about _you, _Madeline Smith. Only some of it I know now, but I can assure you, if you come along with us, we can figure out so much more."

"Why? Why do you care so much to help me?" Madeline inquired, "Since you've come here it's only been about _your_ agenda, what you need to figure out for yourself, how should I know you'll help me at all?"

"I can assure you that learning about your past will benefit us both. …I promise you that." Sherlock said confidently. John looked at Sherlock absolutely and utterly shocked; he was being… _kind_. "There will be plenty of room for you to set up your art supplies, as well as there being a dark room down the block where you can develop your own photos- seeing as you are an avid photographer as well. …There is also a dance conservatory nearby should you ever wish to dust off your old ballet shoes again."

_And the smartass is back,_ thought John.

"How did you-?" Began Madeline, incredulously.

"Don't even bother." John said kindly, she took his word for it.

"So," Sherlock smiled with a closed mouth, "Coming?"

Madeline looked between Sherlock, John and Michael hesitantly, "…I don't know."

"It's alright, take your time, we have time-" Began John before being rudely cut off by Sherlock.

"Be quite quick, our flight leaves in an hour."

Madeline took a deep breath and resolved herself, "No."

Much to John's surprise, it wasn't Sherlock's voice who he'd heard argue with her next, it was Michael's. "What? Madeline, why?"

"Michael, don't be crazy- you _need_ me. Who's going to help you run the shop? Who's going to clean up after you here? And on the weekends with-"

"Madeline, sis, I'm perfectly capable of taking care of things now." He grabbed her hand and squeezed it. John observed Sherlock's face, noticing how he was watching the brother and sister intently. This sort of affection and caring between siblings- between anyone, was clearly foreign to Sherlock. John could almost hear the analysis in Sherlock's head as it went round and round unable to understand _why._ "I've been clean for 10 years, I'll find someone else to help me with the shop, don't worry about me, please. You've given up so much already, _go have an adventure!_" He said excitedly. "Madeline Smith, you will get out of this town! You're better than this place, better than the people here."

"…And Danny? …Michael, what about Danny?"

"Sweetheart," Michael had a playful sassy look on his face, "you ditched him at the wedding, stole half of the cake, and just watched Sherlock Holmes verbally abuse him until he nearly exploded… honey, Danny's the least of your worries now. It's ok, you can admit it."

It was a strange feeling Madeline Smith felt right then, and it wasn't from her sad-day-sandwich. She was… detached. Open. She didn't know who she was in her roots and had no attachment to Louisville, Colorado that was holding her back anymore. She had the blessing from Michael. Danny wasn't currently a concern (poor fellow). She was, strangely… free.

"Tell me, Mister Holmes," She said, he quirked an inquisitive eyebrow, "can you tell me where I was born?"

"London, England." He replied satisfied, it seemed he already knew her answer.

"…Then London's where I've gotta go."

* * *

**Yay! Phew! This chapter was hard to write! It's difficult writing in unfamiliar territory, but we're heading back to 221b! Yay!**

**Also, please, if you would, leave a comment… I do so enjoy reading them and loving them up, it makes me that much more excited to write the next chapter :) **


	5. When Sherlock Met Maddie

**Same disclaimers still apply.**

**Enjoy!**

**Thank you all who comment! **

**Also, on a side note- the sad-day-sandwich is real. ****Yes, it is a real sandwich that I "created." Toast some bread, mix syrup with cinnamon, pour it on the bread and put a scoop of ice cream on top. Seriously, you won't regret it.**

**Yummy.**

**Enjoy! **

* * *

It was an hour into the plane ride and there was nothing but silence between the trio. This was in part due to the fact that from the moment they'd sat on the plane John had passed out into a deep sleep, and partly due to the face that Madeline was still in shock from the turn of events. It was only that morning of the very same day when she'd just been some simple coffee shop Colorado girl who'd become the talk of the town by running away from her wedding just a week ago. Now she was, apparently, a British girl, who'd been adopted making the two people who'd raised her not her parents after all, and also she was apparently a very important link in an ongoing case. And now she was on a one way flight to London with two strange strangers… she'd definitely be the talk of the town, now.

She clutched her camera to her chest, so far only having taken pictures of her hurried luggage and getting a picture of Michael to have with her… she didn't know how long she'd be gone. It took her a good 15 minutes before Michael was satisfied with the pictures she'd taken. He'd given her a number of poses and facial expressions, at one point he'd even ambushed Sherlock as he'd come through the front door. Quickly Michael had wrapped his arms around the taller man's neck and smiled. Madeline captured the picture. She observed it as she sat on the plane, Sherlock didn't look surprised in it but rather annoyed, his brows here furrowed, his jaw clenched and his lips downturned as he looked at the camera. It was rather hilarious to look at since Michael's face of excitement was so contrasting to his… John insisted he was to get a copy of the picture once they'd reached London.

Madeline hadn't been able to stop crying since she'd said goodbye to Michael at the airport, her life was changing, and for once- he wasn't going to be there while it was. Tears dripped down Madeline's face 3 hours into the flight as she began to really miss Michael. They smeared her sketch that she was mindlessly drawing on a napkin, soon enough she realized she was drawing his face. Quickly she crumpled it up for fear that she'd begin to sob loudly… again.

"It won't be forever, you know… not unless you want it to be." Sherlock said softly. Most of the cabin was empty and he was sitting in between Madeline and John. Madeline wondered how they'd gotten first class tickets, the only response she got was from John who mumbled something about 'Sherlock's brother' having 'obnoxious power trips.'

"Oh, I know this trip is indefinite. This is something I have to do, I know that too… I'm just going to miss him so much." She looked up at Sherlock who was now looking away from her. "…you don't do well with emotion, do you?" He didn't answer. "How… how did you know about me?"

"Hmm?" He grumbled in his chest, she could feel the vibrations from his chest in her seat. It made her spine tingle.

"How did you know about me being… an artist and a ballerina?"

"Ex-ballerina." He corrected her, she'd be lying if she didn't say the word stung her.

"Yes, well, how did you know?"

Sherlock sighed lazily, he looked over at Madeline- his icy blue eyes making contact with her warm brown ones and began, "The art part is the easiest- the house was lined with your numerous paintings and sketched all initialed with 'MM' which could have been 'Michael Smith' but due to the paint and charcoal bits under your fingernails, it was clear that you were the artist in the family. As to the photography, there are marks and a light tan on the back of your neck from the camera-strap you currently have hanging around said neck. Not that difficult to see that it's too thick a tan to be a necklace, therefore the next logical conclusion, especially considering your artistic ambitions, would be that you did photography. Lastly, ballet, when you were working today- you wore strappy sandals exposing your feet. The callouses at the tip of your first toe and surrounding it are evident, but old. None of your scars and callouses on your feet where your pointe would cause damage are fresh. Therefore, you were once a ballerina. But given your penchant to still stand in the third position with your arms in first position, your body still misses it greatly. Now, why would your body miss it if you gave it up willingly? That's the answer, you didn't give it up willingly. Due to your brother's old alcoholism and the fact that he started his recovery 10 years ago- about the time when you'd begin looking to join a dance conservatory at the age of 15 to start off small and work your way up- I'd say that you gave that up going away to stay at home and take care of him since your parents had died. The conservatory was too far. Therefore you had to finish high school and continue on to college- I'd say somewhere nearby your town so you could stay at home- also because you currently worked in a coffee shop therefore not taking much pride in your degree- or rather, where you earned it at, which points to a community college. Which is where art comes in, another one of your passions. Art is your profession, photography though- just a hobby I'd say since your paintings outnumber your pictures greatly. A part of you is ashamed with yourself for giving up ballet so young, but you know your days are over in that professional scope so you keep it hidden, afraid that people will ask and therefore bring their pity on you- which is something you **despise **above all else."

Madeline stared at Sherlock as he towered over her, her jaw agape. He raised his eyebrows in question, "did I miss anything?"

Madeline couldn't string her vowels together properly in her head. This man truly was _amazing_, in every sense of the word. As he looked at her she saw that he just didn't merely see her, he actually _saw her_. It would have frightened Madeline… but it didn't. "N-no… no, you didn't."

Sherlock smiled to himself satisfied that he hadn't missed anything this time. "But tell me," She said suddenly, "Can you tell me why I ran away from my wedding?" Sherlock rolled his eyes in obviousness, "no, no, I know what you're thinking- not why _you'd_ run away… why I ran away."

Sherlock craned his neck to look back at her and observed her intently. "Danny…"

"Yes?"

"You love him." He stated. It wasn't a question, Madeline nodded. "Hmmm…" He said curiously leaning towards her, she could feel her heart beat grow in intensity. "You're not asking me that _just_ to stump me… you're asking me because _you_ don't even know why you ran. …_Fascinating!" _

"Yes, I'm sure I'm just a great ball of interesting topics." She commented sarcastically, she hailed over the stewardess who was walking down the aisle, "excuse me, do you have any food?"

"Well," the woman replied kindly, "We just gave out snack-"

"Oh, you mean that little bag of pretzels and a juice box? I inhaled that in like a second."

"Breakfast will be served in 2 hours miss." The stewardess said before walking away, annoyed with her fat mouthed member in coach.

"This is ridiculous, how do they expect us to not eat for two hours?" Madeline said to herself, clearly upset.

"Then there is the other matter of your inhumanly fast metabolism." Sherlock commented.

"How so?"

"You manage to eat like a beast," Madeline had to hold back her smile as he unknowingly reiterated her secret nickname for him, "and yet your petite frame remains intact." Madeline looked away quickly. "ahhh!" Sherlock said as he realized a new discovery, "You still do practice ballet- in private! It's not that those callouses aren't new, it's just that they're not worked as hard as they once were. You do it in private, don't want anyone to know you gave up something you loved so intently. You internalize your passion for it."

"Congratulations." Madeline replied unenthusiastically, her cheeks burning from a private activity of hers being found out.

"Can't believe I missed it! It's something!" Sherlock growled beneath his breath, "it's always something!"

"And what about you?" She countered still feeling exposed.

"Pardon?"

"What about you? You don't have anything you practice constantly yet gave up? No childhood dream that didn't come true?"

Sherlock's demeanor changed greatly, he was once again the reserved cold man she'd seen 99% of the time that she'd known him. "No." He bluntly answered.

_The beast is back._ She thought.

Madeline looked away from him and reserved herself with her camera. Messing with the settings and looking through her past photos of people. She was too frightened to pick up a pen again for fear that she'd end up sketching another picture of Michael and find herself in tears, especially since she'd recently stopped crying…well, ever since Sherlock began the conversation with her she'd stopped-

Wait.

_That's weird._ She barely knew the man- but Madeline knew that much was for sure.

The beast had stopped her crying all the while being an absolute obnoxious stuck up dick?

… _what? _

Madeline felt as though her mind was going to explode as she kept thinking about it. She shook her head a couple of times and decided to follow John's example and sleep, this would certainly help clear her mind and help pass the lifetime between meals. Leaning to the side away from Sherlock (he seemed like the sort of man that didn't liked to be touched, or wasn't used to being touched) she closed her heavy lids and fell into a deep sleep.

An hour later Madeline found herself being shaken awake violently. She opened her eyes, everything was blurry as she wiped the drool running down her chin. She looked and saw it was the beast, Sherlock, who was shoving her. "Is it time to eat?" She asked groggily.

"Violin." He said bluntly.

"…what?"

"The violin. I play the violin. Grew up playing it. My mother wanted me to be part of the London Symphony, and I could have, but I chose not to."

Madeline watched Sherlock intently as he spoke. It seemed he'd taken a great deal of thought deciding whether or not he should tell her. She couldn't believe it but she actually felt… something. She didn't know what it was but as she looked at him, his face growing more upset with every passing moment that she didn't reply to him, she felt… something. Compassion? Caring? She didn't quite know yet.

"Why didn't you do it?"

Sherlock took one long hesitant look at her before turning away. He wasn't going to answer her. She'd dug too deep. Madeline sighed and went back into her sleeping position. One thing was for certain: Sherlock Holmes was one hard man to figure out.

* * *

**Woowoo! Hope you all enjoyed that! I'm sorry to say it'll have to hold off for the weekend. I won't have access to a computer until Monday. I honestly don't know how I'll survive, but I'll try to manage. **

**Love you all and please don't forget to comment my lovelies :) xoxo **


	6. A Negotiation

**Oh my goodness, 16 followers, and 6 favourites- I'm the happiest girl in fanfiction heaven! Sadly though I only have 13 reviews but I'm hoping that with time, all of you that are following and favouriting this story will soon be reviewing :)**

**Thank you all for being so patient while I was away from my computer this past weekend, in return- I'll be posting a little special chapter in the soon future that hopefully you'll all enjoy. Xoxo**

* * *

The morning in 221B had been not much out of the ordinary- except for the strange American girl who was now living with them. John had offered to give up his room to her (Sherlock had not), but Madeline had reserved herself to sleep on the couch. The guilt for staying at someone else's flat without contributing was already hitting her hard, but John had insisted that _she _was doing _them_ a favour. She really wasn't in a position to complain either- she was broke and with no job in Britain- she was thankful, to say the least.

It was two weeks in and she still hadn't grown accustomed to living with Sherlock Holmes. He was loud and came out to the living room in the middle of the night (with no consideration to the fact that she was sleeping on the couch) and would play the violin. He played beautifully- there was no doubt about that. In the beginning it had bothered her quite a bit, but as time went on she found herself unable to fall asleep without his songs… and that worried her.

She'd started to sketch on things- little things, like napkins. She didn't have the heart to unpack her luggage filled with her paint supplies. Unconsciously she felt that, if she did, it would really mean she was away from home… indefinitely. As for her ballet there was a nice little studio down the street that she took to practicing in during its open solo hours. She had to admit, even being away from a flat that she shared with two men for even 2 hours a week, was a blessing.

The body parts in the fridge were starting to really get to her, and even more so was the fact that Sherlock Holmes insisted on sleeping naked. Which wouldn't have been a problem if he hadn't come out of his bedroom every morning wrapped in nothing but his bed sheet. As he walked around like Caesar with half his chest showing, she couldn't help but stare wondering what everything else under that bed sheet looked like.

Almost everyday a new client would come in, and so far- everyday, Sherlock had turned down every one of them for not being 'interesting' enough. As to the matter of her case- whatever it was, Sherlock had remained tight lipped stating that it would all reveal itself in due time, they just had to be patient.

For the most part, Sherlock lived up to his nickname that she'd given him- the beast. He acted as though she didn't exist most times. Even in the morning when he was having his cup of coffee right across from her, he'd remain silent while reading his newspaper. She only had John to talk to. All of the interest and intrigue he'd had in her had suddenly faded.

Typically, this wouldn't bother Madeline, as she'd never felt particularly special in her life, but for some reason it bothered her. She felt like his cold leftovers that he'd forgotten about in the fridge weeks ago and was just too lazy to throw out. John had tried to convince her that this was just the way he worked, that whatever her case was- it was ongoing, and that she was needed around for a certain reason of which he wasn't quite certain yet- Sherlock wouldn't tell him.

Madeline had met Detective Inspector Lestrade on many occasions so far, he seemed sweet enough and only one of the few people who could deal with the Beast's erratic behaviour. Lestrade and John would go out with a man named Stamford, on her first weekend they'd invited her out for drinks on a Saturday night. She'd had more fun in that night than she'd had her whole life- getting drunk with those men was a party in itself and as she burst in 221B drunk with an equally drunk John Watson on her arm, she couldn't help but giggle at the scolding face Sherlock gave them both. He'd shoved John Watson off of her, thrown her on the couch and (much to John's dismay) threw John over his shoulder, walked him upstairs and threw him on his bed. Sherlock stomped his way downstairs, giving another glare to a giggling Madeline before walking into his own room and slamming the door shut behind him.

_What a party pooper_. She'd thought. It was already resolved that Sherlock was the most unpleasant man she'd ever known, but it didn't go without saying that she knew he loved John Watson. I mean really loved him, just like the same way brother's loved one another. John loved Sherlock back, too. She'd always catch little moments they had with each other without the other knowing. It was beyond strange how they were both so opposite yet so alike. She'd never point it out to either of them, only then would she be asking for a scolding (not just from Sherlock) but from both of them.

Aside from John, Mrs. Hudson was her only other friend at 221B- especially since it seemed Sherlock went out of his way to avoid Madeline. Mrs. Hudson would bring her up cookies and taught her about different kinds of English teas, they'd spend afternoons watching make-over shows and discussing recipes. Mrs. Hudson loved to cook and Madeline had to admit, the woman knew the _exact_ way to get into Madeline Smith's heart- through her stomach. Always being the polar opposite of Sherlock, who barely ate anything, Madeline seemed to constantly clean out the kitchen with her mouth… she couldn't helped she liked food so much. _It seemed to call to her._ When she'd told that to John only a couple of days ago Sherlock had grunted in agony in response to her comment- it was the first time he'd acknowledged her in days.

But today, unlike all the other days at 221B, Madeline was alone. Well, sort of alone. Mrs. Hudson was having an affair with the owner of Speedy's in a different part of England for the night and John was in Dublin for the night as well. All that was left was her and Sherlock.

_Oh, joy_. She thought sarcastically to herself. John had been kind enough to offer his bedroom for the night which Madeline happily agreed to. The lumpy couch had taken a slight toll on her back and she was happy to get away from it- even for a night.

So there Madeline sat. 8pm on a Friday night across from the beast- Sherlock. He was plucking away at his violin as he stared into the fire. She was reading her book barely able to pay attention to it. Two weeks in and she had nothing. Nothing more about who she really was, who her parents really were. She'd thought about bringing it up but decided not to- she really didn't need a snippy comment from Sherlock Holmes tonight.

"Turn the page."

His deep vibrato filled the silent room so suddenly it shocked her. Not just because they had been sitting for the past hour in silence, but because he'd almost never spoken to her since she'd arrived. At one point, she'd even began to wonder if he could still see her.

"…Excuse me?" She was unsure about her tone, not wanting to frighten him away. ...Madeline hated herself then- that she didn't want to get rid of his attention.

Sherlock, as always, was cool on his reply, "Unless you average 17 minutes to read one page of a book, I suggest you either put the book down or turn the page in the more likeliness that you'll find something new on it that you haven't been reading repeatedly for almost a quarter of an hour."

"Boy you are such a _bitch _sometimes!" Madeline exclaimed softly.

Suddenly, the room went still. Madeline froze in place as Sherlock stared at her (finally looking directly at her), both of them shocked.

"…did I really just say that outloud?" She asked herself while still looking at him.

"I'm afraid you did." He replied neutrally but with slight heat, "If I were you, I'd invest in a filter."

Madeline no longer felt sorry for her accidental outburst once hearing his reply, "You know what," She countered heatedly, her voice rising with unrequited anger as she slammed her book on the table, "why don't you invest in a bitchometer you slut mouthed creature!"

This time, she'd gone too far- and she knew it. Madeline immediately slapped her palm over her mouth and stared at Sherlock wide-eyed. This was it- he was going to kick her out. She knew it. One way ticket back to Colorado with her tail between her legs. Sherlock looked back at her, a slight amount of shock in his eyes, but there also seemed to be a bit of curiosity on his face, and on his lips that had always seemed to hold so much emotion she could've sworn she saw a touch of a smirk on the side of his cupid-bowed lip.

"Uhm… I am… so sorry." Madeline said removing her hand from her mouth, absolutely horrified. "I just… have a lot of pent up anger." Sherlock got up from his chair quickly and headed towards the kitchen. _Oh god, this is it, he's just turned his back on me. Madeline you stupid son of a bitch!_ She mentally scolded herself as she heard drawers and cabinets being opened and slammed closed. "I'm so sorry, again, really, I didn't mean it. Well, actually that's a lie- I did mean it. I mean, you are just _so infuriating_! I've lived with you for two weeks- _two weeks,_ and this is the most you've spoken to me at all and all it is is just an insult! You know what? Never mind, forget it, I'm not sorry, you are slut mouthed. Sue me or kick me out or something! I don't care! I can survive on my own!  
...…Actually, you know what, if you are _actually_ going to kick me out, could you give me some money for a hotel or something? And maybe get that brother of yours, whoever he is, to fly me back? I realize that I just called your mouth a slut, twice now, but I'm kind of broke and-"

Suddenly Madeline felt something warm hit her lap-

a… bagel?

"Eat." Sherlock demanded as he sat down across from her on his chair, picking up his violin to pluck and once more look into he fire. "It's been over two hours, you're much less _annoying_ on a full stomach."

Madeline didn't know how to reply. She stared at him for a moment or two in silence before picking up the bagel. "Thank you." She took a bite, it was warm and fluffy- a sweet bagel. Her favorite. "I know you're not the type to do things for others, so really, thank you."

Sherlock didn't reply. He continued to pluck and stare into the fire with his leg crossed over the other.

"and also… I want to thank you for letting me stay here. It really means a lot to me. And for agreeing to help find out things about who my family was, and I'll be as patient as possible with that. ...And I want to let you know that if I'm going to be here for longer, that I'm going to look for a job. It's the least I can do since I eat like, 10 times more than you do."

Sherlock, still, didn't reply.

Madeline shrugged to herself and picked up her book again, this time able to read with concentration. 20 minutes had flown by before another comment had come out randomly from his mouth.

"You don't seem the type." He said, his body and faced unmoved from the fireplace.

"...Don't seem the type to what?"

"To read _that._" Sherlock pointed his long finger towards her, indicating it was meant for the book in her hand.

"Oh, why? Do I not seem like an Austen girl?" She indicated to the book _Emma_ that was in her hands.

"Oh, every girl seems like an Austen girl." He said the sentence with distain. "At least it's not that '_Pride and Prejudice'_ one you all seem to fawn over-"

"Uhm, excuse me Sherlock Holmes, you may know how to deduce everything about someone but if you don't understand the power of Austen then you truly don't understand much about anything when it comes to most literature. She has had a profound effect on the novel-"

"And on ignorant girls into believing fantasies-" He rolled his eyes.

"Uhm, no, absolutely not! If you knew anything you'd know that she's mocking her society for being so _stuck up_-" She emphasized those words, clearly indicating they were meant in tandem with Sherlock's character, "And also, Jane wrote about the struggle women had in their time and gave happy endings to those girls who deserved it- the ones who married for love, not for good breeding or high class society… everything she wrote was a harsh criticism in response to the world that surrounded her. Jane Austen had guts for writing about love and not about inanimate objects or fleeting lust. ...but of course you wouldn't understand that love bit, would you?"

"How fascinating," Sherlock raised his eyebrows, "You and John seem to be spending much time together, not just discussing idle topics- but rather discussing me. Here I was thinking that both of your small infantile brains were not capable of discussion beyond basic idiotic topics of the weather and John's occasional colorful or striped jumper, you have divulged deeper into your shallow pools of topics, your thoughts on me and my understanding of love seem to compliment each other." His words burned her greatly. She'd grown up with people assuming she was dumb for one reason or another- perhaps because she was an artist and was a dancer, or perhaps just because she was a simple small town girl. But Madeline Smith was not going to back down to anyone, not even Sherlock Holmes.

"But it's right, isn't it?" Madeline challenged, she leaned forward in John's chair and stared down Sherlock who had now put his violin down across his lap, had his elbow perched on the arm of the chair as his fingers ran across his lips in thought as he stared at her. "You don't understand emotion. You're so cold and detached, you don't get it do you? I haven't been able to paint because of how much I miss Michael. You sit here in your apartment all day everyday- unless you have a case, and you give all of your attention to John, you do things for him, you help him when he's not looking- you put him on the same level you put yourself, which, by the way, is the highest pedestal known to mankind and you've clearly deduced _exactly_ how much he cares about you …You're his world- God only knows why, but you are- and he spends his days writing about you and you still seem to not understand a droplet of what real love or emotion is. You're a **machine**, Sherlock Holmes."

Madeline leaned back in John's chair as she continued to stare at Sherlock who hadn't moved an inch. "Now you think about that." She finished determined before standing up, "Now, I'm going to bed. If you'll excuse me-"

"Not in John's bed." He demanded.

"What?"

"I said," He looked up at her with a daring glance, the fire from the fireplace warming his skin giving him a tan glow and making his eyes look black in the shadows, "Not in John's bed."

"Uhm… well, too bad because he said I could."

"Please, by all means do. Especially if you wish to lay in the remains of what was a passionate love making session between John and that dull school teacher two nights ago while you were out with Mrs. Hudson."

Her heart felt like it literally fell into her stomach. "Oh god… ewww." Madeline exclaimed sitting back down on the chair, John must've forgotten his exploits cause he surely wouldn't have offered the bed had he remembered… or he'd have at least cleaned the sheets. Her hoped for a comfortable sleep were dashed.

"Now, if you wouldn't mind," Sherlock said standing up, his body towered over her as he looked down raising his eyebrows, "I'd like to go to bed now."

Madeline looked up at him confused. "So if you would, please give me the cover's." he indicated to the covers that she was sitting on by holding out his hand for them, the ones she slept with on the couch.

"What?"

Sherlock rolled his eyes annoyed already, "Typically I take to sleeping on the couch far more than I sleep in my own bed because it is far more convenient to clear my mind and have my violin at the ready should I feel the need to play. Having to come in and out of my room at every instance I wish to play is quite annoying as your presence on said couch seems to be a _constant_ irritation. So, if you wouldn't mind, I would like to negotiate that on Friday nights I may sleep on **_my _**couch."

"…and…I would sleep…?"

"Good Lord," He commented exasperated, "In my room. Whatever I can do to clear you out of here for _one_ night a week. You seem so determined to be a pain in my neck, at least be a touch bit agreeable, would you?" Sherlock's tone was harsh as he stared down at her.

Madeline slowly stood up, not knowing what to say. She handed him the blanket, which he snatched out her hands before he sighed exasperated. He walked back over to the couch and vaulted his body on it, his back turned towards her without saying another word.

Madeline furrowed her eyebrows as she walked away from him towards his room. Was he being _kind _to her? Surely not, she'd concluded, he'd been nothing but cruel- nothing but himself. And as she got under his warm, heavy sheets that were filled with his scent (cologne and a slight hint of a fresh bar of soap) placing her head atop his cool fluffy pillow, she'd decided it didn't matter because for the first time since she'd left Colorado, she'd finally felt comfortable enough to fall asleep immediately.

* * *

**Long chapter alright! Hope you all enjoyed! **

**This one is a bit different than the others as there is more narration than dialogue, but I wanted to move time a touch bit quickly.**

**Also, a favour from you all, as usual, I'd absolutely 100% _love _it if you'd comment. After all, what writer doesn't? :) **

**Wiz-Chic **


	7. Secrets

**Hey everyone! Thanks for the comments/suggestions! I'm definitely going to take them into consideration in the future editing of my chapters. Don't worry about our little heroine though, she doesn't give in to bad moods easily, she's a fighter. :) The last chapter was necessary to establish a sort of lifestyle in 221B so I could get the story moving a little quicker. **

**…And here we are! **

**Enjoy!**

* * *

"So, just so I get this right…" John Watson said over tea with Madeline at the nearest coffee shop to Baker street, "_you _told _Sherlock Holmes_ that he was… _slut mouthed_?"

"Yep." She nodded.

"And he said…?"

"Nothing."

"Not possible."

"What?"

"Sherlock never backs down to a challenge or an insult. He definitely did something to retaliate to you, tell me what else happened." John nodded taking another sip of his black coffee.

"Well, he gave me a warm bagel, and then he gave me his… bed, to sleep in." Madeline said. Suddenly the words came awkwardly out of her mouth, it seemed stranger once it was stated. John looked at her with a look of astonishment on his face.

"Rea…." he tried to begin but took a deep breath before pausing, then continuing again. "You're being serious?" He brought his hand up to his chin. "Well that explains why my bed looked like it hadn't been touched…"

"It's not that weird, is it?"

"Ohhoho," John chuckled raising his eyebrows, "It's plenty weird, Madeline."

"I guess, yeah, but since yelling at him last night and insulting him- I have to say… I feel better." John raised his eyebrows pleasantly, "Yeah, I really do! This morning I woke up and unpacked my art supplies, I'm ready to start painting again."

"Wow, Madeline! That's really good! Good for you, I'm really happy you're settling in to London."

"Yeah, well I am a bit out of practice, it's been a good 3 weeks since I last drew,… would you mind terribly if you stood in for me?"

John was pleasantly surprised with her question, knowing that it would piss the hell out of Sherlock if he agreed to… he loved it. "I'd love to, Madeline."

_ZZZzzzz. _

John's phone vibrated on the table, interrupting them both. He sighed irritated, already knowing who it was. Madeline watched disappointed as John picked up his cell phone, knowing it was the end of their lovely breakfast out. "Let me guess, Sherlock?"

"Yeah, it seems we've got a new client. Something about a car and a backfire?" John shook his head as he stood up, "I never understand what goes through that head sometimes." He placed a kiss on the top of Madeline's head; she smiled and looked up at him. "I'll see you back at the flat."

Madeline continued to sit for a moment or two finishing up her coffee before getting up and deciding she'd take a little walk through London. She found it exciting to think of the fact that she was born here- much more interesting than Louisville, Colorado. She decided to walk into an electronics store running immediately over to the 80" t.v. ...She knew she'd never be able to afford one of these, _but a girl can dream,_ she thought, imagining herself watching Doctor who on this t.v. while laying on her bed and eating Cheetos… her own personal heaven.

_Hello, Madeline._

Madeline blinked twice hard while looking at the screen- she could've _sworn_ it just said _Hello, Madeline_ on it. She stared at it intently, refusing to blink, and this time she knew for certain when it flashed with, _Was coffee with John pleasant? _that she was **not** imagining things.

Her heart felt like it was going to plummet to the ground at any minute because of how hard it was beating. Someone was watching her…

_Turn around._

Madeline did as she was told and saw a black car pull up in front of the electronics store, she turned back to the t.v. with an _'oh hell no I am not getting in that creepy black car'_ look on her face.

_Get in, please. _

_…Not like you really have a choice._

* * *

In the car the woman next to her who was attached to her phone seemed to calm Madeline's nerves down considerably. In a strange way, the fact that this woman wasn't worried enough to stop texting calmed Madeline down.

When she'd gotten out of the car in God knows where, she was surprised to find a thin gangly man perched on his umbrella. He gave her a cold smile as she approached him.

He seemed more creepy than frightening.

"Madeline Smith, I presume."

"Apparently so." She was surprised at how level her voice was. A moment of silence passed through them.

"But that's not your _real_ last name… is it?"

Madeline hid her panic well. On the inside world war III was happening, alarms were going off and signals were being pounded in her head- this man knew she was adopted and she couldn't help but assume this it was _not_ a good thing; but on the outside, Madeline Smith was as cool as a cucumber.

"I don't see how that's any of _your_ concern" She replied snipply, it seemed Sherlock _had_ rubbed off on her. "Unless you're here to tell me that your last name is actually my real last name and that you're my biological father."

Madeline was shocked when the man tilted his head back and chuckled, his laugh echoing throughout the dimly lit hallway. "No, not quite so Madeline _Smith_. You're certainly not that young and I'm certainly not that old… but I do have a proposition for you." The man reached into his pocket and took out a piece of paper, handing it to Madeline who hesitantly took it. She opened it to see an address written on it. She looked up at him confused, "The address of your parents, your _real _parents. This is the house that you were born in. …It hasn't been sold since they died many years ago, nor has it been changed at all since then...much."

She found herself almost afraid to ask, "Why… why's that?" This time the worry and fear showed through her voice as it cracked.

"Because it was left to you." He said coolly, flashing the last will and testament of her parents. Madeline grabbed it and saw their names- _Victoria and Martin Smelting_.

Madeline hated that her face immediately crinkled up, _Smelting?_

"Not the most attractive last name, to be sure." The tall man said, twisting his umbrella in his hand, "But nevertheless, something Sherlock Holmes conveniently forgot to tell you."

Madeline looked up at the man wide-eyed. Had he really known and not told her? Why would Sherlock _not _tell her about this? ...she trusted him.

...Or so she thought she did.

"What do you want then?"

"Pardon?"

Madeline rolled her eyes, "I'm not an idiot mister umbrella man, you gave me this but you want something in return, what is it?"

"My, my…" He said his eyes widening as he stared at her… pleased? "I certainly underestimated you, _Miss Smith._ …I would like you to spy on Sherlock Holmes for me. Nothing big, nothing special, just whatever his day to day activities regarding his cases are… or any other _special_ activities you might want to mention." He smiled arrogantly.

_Oh my god._ Madeline thought to herself, _He think's I'm sleeping with him!_ "Ok, well, other than the cases not much happens at 221B and to answer your question, the answer is n-" Madeline paused in mid-sentence as a realization hit her like a ton of bricks, suddenly, who this man was made sense. "ooohh! I know who you are! That's why this all seemed so familiar! You're Sherlock's big brother, aren't you? Microsoft Holmes?"

"_Mycroft_." He corrected, visibly irritated.

"Yeah, John told me to watch out if someone offered me something in order to spy on Sherlock, said it was his big brother looking for a power trip-"

"Yes, and I worry about him."

Madeline was surprised to see that Mycroft's comment was genuine. She was also certain that this sort of care was lost on Sherlock, surely, who hadn't mentioned once that he had a brother.

"Listen, I'm not going to spy on Sherlock for you. I'm desperate to know about my past but," She held out the piece of paper with an address on it, "Sherlock is the one who brought me here and found me in the first place, I don't know why he's not telling me these things but either way, I'm not one for betrayal."

Sherlock had betrayed her, that much was certain and she would never let it go. But Madeline was determined... she would never be like him.

Mycroft didn't even look down at the paper as he continued to smile staring at Madeline in silence. "My my… you certainly must keep my little brother on his toes. …I wonder how he reacts to having you living with him, it must drive him up the wall."

Madeline felt her cheeks burn, she certainly hoped she didn't bother Sherlock _that_ much. "Well I wouldn't know, he ignores me most of the time. He only seems to give me attention when I insult him for insulting me."

Mycroft's eyebrows raised and his eyes grew wide, a satisfied smirk playing on his lips. Suddenly Madeline felt like she'd said something wrong, she didn't know why but she wished she could have taken it back, Mycroft now knew something that she didn't know or understand about who Sherlock Holmes was with her. "Is that so? _Fascinating!_" She could now officially see the Holmes family resemblance; she could feel Mycroft deducing every inch of her from the inside out. "Go ahead and keep that address, Madeline Smith, you certainly won't be getting it out of Sherlock Holmes anytime soon. I suggest you go there as soon as you can manage, and some friendly advice? _…don't let Sherlock know that we've met or that you're going to this address_. Don't even let him know you've got this information- _not even that you have their names_."

Mycroft didn't wait for an answer as the black car pulled up right next to her, "This is when I must be off, I have a meeting at the palace with two children and some tea." He bowed his head down slightly to her, "If you'll excuse me." Madeline watched as he walked away twirling his umbrella, ever so coolly, in his hand. "Until next time!" He said, his voice echoing throughout the hall, "It's been a pleasure… _Madeline Smith._"

* * *

**Wooo! Badass Mycroft and his badass umbrella! **

**Hope you all enjoyed! **

**Please do comment, it's oh so lovely when you do xoxo **

**Wiz-Chic**


	8. That Man

**Yay I've got more followers! I'm up to 19! I love all of you for wanting to keep up with my story, it means a lot to me. **

**It's a little bit shorter chapter this time, but it's still full of goodness :) **

**Same disclaimers still apply. **

* * *

As Sherlock ran in and out of his closet, John couldn't keep his mind off of his conversation that morning with Madeline. It had been bothering him. He knew Sherlock, he knew the way he worked (for the most part) and he knew Madeline wasn't being told the whole story… Without thinking, he marched his way into Sherlock's walk-in closet with a mission- only to immediately widen his eyes and avert them as he shockingly found himself face to face with Sherlock's nude form.

"While I do appreciate your curiosity, John, I do believe we've been through this subject- I consider myself married to my work." Sherlock said nonchalantly as he casually walked around his lines of clothes, deciding on what outfit to try on next.

"No, no, that's not why I'm here." John said finally looking back at Sherlock who was putting on a new pair of boxer-breifs, much to John's relief.

"Is that so? Well, you were doing just fine waiting outside my closet with your input-"

"I want to talk to you about Madeline." He stated. John didn't miss that slight pause Sherlock took in sliding his purple shirt over his shoulders.

"Hm." He grumbled as his long fingers made quick work of the buttons.

"Listen Sherlock, I don't know what your intentions are with her and this case… and I know for a _fact_ that you know more than you're letting on- that's a given. As to _why_ you're keeping it a secret- I don't know, especially since you're always so keen to show off your knowledge… but I have this awful feeling that it has something to do with Moriarty and if that's the case- then I swear to god if you're just stringing Madeline along only to use her as bait because who she really is has something to do with him- I swear to God Sherlock Holmes, I'll never forgive you."

Sherlock finished dressing himself at the same pace, still not looking at John as he shrugged on his usual coat, the small wrinkles above his nose made themselves apparent as he drew his eyebrows down, slipping on his scarf as he finally looked at John, "Is that what you think I'm doing?" His voice was casual, as were his mannerisms. As if nothing had happened- as if what John had said had been nothing more than 'good morning' or any other simple day-to-day comments.

This pissed John off… to say the least.

"She is _my friend_, Sherlock, and I care about her-"

"No, no you don't _just_ care about her…" Sherlock said taking a step towards his shorter companion, with a little curious glint in his eyes. "She means something more to you, this _Madeline Smith_. What is it, what is it?" John looked around uncomfortably growing impatient, "…Well, you're still with that boring school teacher, which means that you have no current dating intentions for her. Oh no, that's not it. Recently you had another fight with Harriet over getting yet _another_ driving under the influence citation- an annoying characteristic to have in a sibling, alcoholism. Of course, all you'd have to do is ask Madeline who's brother went through the same thing. But considering her attachment and obvious deep affection towards her older brother, Michael, it seems she wouldn't share much to anything about his dark days dealing with alcohol, but rather resolves herself to tell others- especially you, about the days after, the days of his recovery for the past 10 years. This brings you hope, it brings you joy to hear that other loved ones have the ability to move on from the sauce. Hearing this from Madeline brings you both closer together, it makes you have affection for her. But not affection in a sexual manner- no, no, she's not your type. She's strange and has quirks that an ordinary bloke such as yourself wouldn't know how to handle. It's brought you two together in a _family_ manner… she is missing her brother dearly and you miss the sister you once had, therefore finding solace in each other…" Sherlock smiled as he recognized the look on John's face meaning he'd gotten every bit right. "How predictable of you both."

"_Just_," John hissed holding his first finger up to Sherlock, "Don't hurt her, Sherlock. In any manner or form. Just… don't _hurt_ her, ok?"

Sherlock looked down as he slipped on his gloves, "…I hear that's a bit much to ask from me, isn't it?" Sherlock walked past John out of his closet leaving him alone amongst the mess.

His voice was solemn and strange to John; it wasn't sarcastic or arrogant… it was something else. It was… softer. But John brushed it off- he had to, especially since they had to focus on getting the pictures back from this Adler woman; all that mattered now was that he'd told Sherlock what he'd wanted to tell him since the moment he saw him in the palace.

John shook his head as he walked out of the closet, it was twice today he'd seen Sherlock Holmes nude, he was certain he didn't want or need to see any more nude people for the rest of the day…

* * *

Madeline walked down the street making of Northern London where the cabby had dropped her off… it was unusual walking in Upper Edmonton. She felt her heart pound in her chest the closer she got to her family's home- her biological family's home. It was white with blue shutters; it seemed simple enough in its calm and quiet neighborhood- much different than 221B in central London.

When she reached the door, her hand was shaking as she slipped in the key. "It's ok, doesn't matter what I find in here…" she said to herself, "I'm still Madeline Smith."

She opened the door and realized she didn't know what she should have expected… but the home seemed normal enough with stairs leading directly upstairs in front of her. She walked inside, the wooden floor creaking beneath her boots. On the table there was a folded up newspaper she recognized as being from the day she was born. Her breath got caught in her throat as she looked around and recognized pictures of a baby she'd never seen before… pictures of her.

However, strangely enough… there were no pictures of her parents to be found. None whatsoever. Madeline had recalled that the house hadn't been _mostly_ tampered with.

Making her way upstairs she found the usual- the bathroom, the guest bedroom, the second bedroom- but the doors to the master bedroom was closed. The nearer she got to them, the clearer she could smell a peculiar odour… something familiar, something not very pleasant. Her hands shook as she reached out towards the double doors. Taking a deep breath Madeline told herself, '_now or never.'_

She swung the doors open and was shocked with the site before her- a bare white room… a bare white room that stunk of heavy Clorox and bleach. There was nothing in there, no dresser, no bed, no clothes… nothing. She walked in and covered her mouth with her sleeve- utterly confused as to why it was stripped bare and washed. The bathroom that was attached seemed to be in the same state, but next to it there was a door that was slightly opened. As Madeline opened it, her eyes widened in awe-

It was a baby room.

_Her_ room.

It was filled with a bassinet, dusty diapers, and toys everywhere. This room hadn't been touched in 25 years- not since she'd been given away. …That much Madeline was sure about. Making her way towards the bassinet- she saw the small necklace that laid inside of it. It was simple and silver with a silver heart charm on it, engraved it said:

_Madeline Smelting- _

_Our lovely heart. _

Madeline felt tears burning in her eyes as she picked it up, immediately clutching it tightly in the palm of her hand. Suddenly a maddening rage filled her from head to toe- she'd never felt so upset in her life. She'd never felt so betrayed.

He knew- he knew all of this- he must have…

And he didn't say. _How **dare** he keep **this** from her? _

Madeline's body began to shake violently as tears dripped down her cheeks. She stuffed the necklace in her pocket and sprinted downstairs and out of the house- slamming the door behind her, hailing another taxi.

She was on a mission and she couldn't be stopped. Her anger and need for vengeance for the lies were directed towards one person- one man, really, _the beast_ she hissed in her head as she got in the taxi. Nothing would stop her from getting to him- nothing would stop her in making him understand how much he'd hurt her- how much pain he'd put her through by leading her on and hiding it all from her... she would not stop from getting to _the one man_-

_Sherlock Holmes._

* * *

**Hope you all enjoyed! **

**And I hope you'll all comment! It's not just a vanity thing, but I like hearing what you guys enjoy so I can include more of that in upcoming chapters! So type in that little box right down there and again, thank you to all who tune in and continue reading! **

**Wiz-Chic **


	9. Simple Deductions

**Same disclaimers still apply. **

* * *

Madeline Smith- or Smelting- arrived back at 221B in the morning. Her anger had yet to subside as she marched up the steps, slamming her foot into each one.

Finally she walked into the living room- not even noticing the presence of John, Mrs. Hudson and Mycroft, as she marched up to Sherlock Holmes (who somehow already had a cut on his cheek), reeled her arm back, and smacked her palm across his sharp cheek with no mercy.

The sound resonated throughout the flat as everything went still. Sherlock didn't move he position of his face as he was shocked by the abuse. Madeline's hand stung and ached badly- his cheekbone had certainly done a number on it.

_Damn him and his ridiculous cheekbones._ She thought to herself angrily.

"Sherlock Holmes you are the **_worst_** human being I have ever known!" She bellowed loudly, tears stinging her eyes.

"Oh my," A posh voice said, Madeline turned and was shocked to see it was Mycroft standing across from the table with his mobile in his hand and a slight smirk on his face, "Madeline when I told you to not speak to my brother about these topics I thought no good would come of it. Forgive me- I was wrong."

Madeline then took to notice John sitting next to her, tea cup out of its saucer as he stared with his jaw agape and Mrs. Hudson behind him with wide eyes. This seemed to be the least of her concern as Sherlock shook his face once or twice coming out of his shock and turning his face back towards the table. Madeline threw her necklace she'd found in the bassinet on the table. Sherlock reached down and fingered it.

"You know, you know so much more than you let on." Sherlock looked up at her, expressionless, as she continued. "I went to _their house_, Sherlock- thanks to your brother over there." Sherlock's eyes quickly darted to Mycroft before immediately making their way back to the necklace in his hand. "You know what I found? Well, this necklace of course, pictures of myself as a baby everywhere - and a baby room- _my room_. But for some reason, there was nothing in their room but the smell of bleach- kind of a strong smell to stay around after 25 years, wouldn't you say? …You'd have to scrub really hard to keep that sort of odours in the wall."

Sherlock raised his eyebrow before looking up at Madeline nonchalantly, "Your parents were murdered in their bedroom, Madeline, the day after they'd given you away-"

Immediately she turned away with her hands up in the air as she walked away, "No! Nope! I don't want to hear it now Mister Holmes- I _don't_ want to hear it now!" The moment she found herself in Sherlock's bedroom with the door closed behind her, she found herself sobbing into his pillow.

* * *

Back at the table, John threw Sherlock a knowing look- one of anger, reminding him that he'd _just_ done what John had warned him not to do.

"Oh Sherlock, what is it you've done to the poor girl now?" Mrs. Hudson complained.

"Well, I'll be off." Mycroft said tipping his umbrella towards them, "I think you've got this under control, Sherlock. Now, I have some very old friends to apologize to-"

"Give them my regards." Sherlock said nonchalantly standing up walking towards his bedroom.

"Sherlock-" John began, but his words were cut off by the slam of the bedroom door and the front door closing simultaneously. John realized all that was left was him and Mrs. Hudson.

* * *

Sherlock closed the door behind him and looked to his bed and as he expected, there was Madeline crying into his pillows, wrapped up in his sheets. He took steps closer to his bed before her voice sounded out threateningly in the room.

"Don't you come closer Sherlock Holmes- don't you dare!" Her face was swollen when she lifted it, her eyes were red. She sat up and pointed a finger at him, "Is this why you brought me here? To find out things about my past, not tell me, then have them crash down my world once I learn it all? Hm? Because let me tell _you_, I was fine without knowing all of this! …before, I came from a _good home_- now I come from a broken one where my _parents_ **gave me away** only to be killed themselves! I was abandoned!"

"Tell me- what did you find there?" Sherlock asked suddenly. His hands were laced behind his back as he looked down at her expectantly.

"Wh… what?"

"What did you find there? In the house? You found pictures of yourself as a baby, you said-"

"Yes-"

"But?"

"But…" Madeline looked down, finding his tone calming for some strange reason, _you're supposed to be angry at him- remember? Stay angry at the beast!_ "…but there were no pictures of my parents."

"Exactly." He replied satisfied, "What else?"

Madeline hated that she found herself intrigued; she knew what he was doing- he was taking her on one of his adventures through a deduction… and she couldn't help it. "Their room-"

"What about their room?"

"It was… I told you, it was stripped bare. I could still smell the bleach from the carpet and the walls-"

"Even over two decades later?" He began to pace still glancing at her constantly, leading her on. "Hm, how interesting… what can we deduce from that?"

"That… they were killed… there." She looked up at him sadly, "You already told me this."

"yes and this is the vulgar part- so I'll just get you through it, the only reason for a room to be stripped and cleaned that bare was if the murders within it were violent- quite violent."

Madeline looked up at him for a loss of words, but when she spoke- they came out quiet, "Why are you telling me this?" She whispered.

Immediately Sherlock went on his knees, kneeling in front of her as she was sitting on the bed, putting his face in direct eyeline with hers, catching her off guard at his closeness to her. She couldn't help but tremble as he grabbed her shaking hands that were sitting on her lap. His fingers were… so long… and the skin was so smooth… and warm. "Because," he pressed, "it's so important Madeline- _think!_"

Her brain was running a million miles an hour, attempting to concentrate on solid ideas. But she found it so difficult when the man before her was making her heart pound so hard from nervousness as well as made her blood boil from anger simultaneously- she found she wanted to hug him and slap him all at the same time.

"Well… if two people are murdered violently in their own bedroom-" She began.

"Yes?"

"And… nothing valuable was taken- the only things that were taken by the killer were… the pictures of the victims-"

"YES!" Sherlock almost shouted excitedly, he loved it when someone began to see on the same deduction that he was with minimal help from him.

"It means that…" Madeline took a deep breath as the realization hit her, "That they were murdered not by accident, but for a reason. They were murdered for something personal… for revenge."

"Yes! Madeline- tell me, what else?"

Madeline's brown eyes met with Sherlock's sharp blue-green ones, which seemed to be pulsing with adrenaline. She felt the same sort of rush hit her simultaneously as he placed his free hand that wasn't clutched her hands upon her cheek, his fingertips brushing the hair from her eyes as it stuck to her drying cheeks. _This is what he must feel like_, she realized, recognizing the rush, that feeling of satisfaction of getting all the answers just through… observing, _This is how it must be for him- but times a million- all the time… I get it._

"What… what else?" She replied worried, what else was she missing that she couldn't see that he understood?

He breathed out of his mouth looking away slightly frustrated before bringing his attention back to her. Madeline felt exposed beneath the touch of his hands- one clutching her cheek the other clutching her hands. She was not so foolish to think he was doing this in any sort of intimate manner- it was all so he could keep her focused. But as she looked into his eyes (that every time she saw them they seemed to be a different colour), and as she could feel the heat radiating off her cheek onto his musicians fingertips- rough from the strings of the violin, Madeline found it increasingly difficult to concentrate.

_What is wrong with me?_ She thought .

"Oh come on Madeline! There's only one more deduction to be had here- these are all very simple very straight forward deductions you've just made- this one is not so difficult either."

_Ah, and there it is._ "Thank you for belittling my attempting to understand your deductions and making them so _simple_ for my _simple _mind-" She replied sarcastically.

"Oh come on now, you know what I mean. I'm trying to be encouraging."

"_This_ is you being encouraging?" She said disbelieving.

"Madeline," He said with a deep stern voice, "_focus!_" He hissed. "Tell me, what else did you say that you found there?"

"My necklace?"

"Yes, and where did you find it?"

"In my… my room. My baby room."

"Exactly, and what was in this baby room?"

"What do you mean?"

"Was it empty like the bedroom?"

"Uhm… No."

"So, your parents were murdered the _after_ they gave you away… but your baby room was still intact? Even your necklace that they'd bought you and engraved for you was still there…"

"…yes…"

"So," He continued to look at her expectantly, "What does that tell us? Two parents who keep their child's room intact- in perfect condition, even after giving her away? ….Madeline, what does that _tell us?_"

"It means that…" The answer stood in her head but she didn't know if she was allowed to believe it but as she looked at his encouraging/impatient face, she realized he was silently telling her that it was right. "…that they never _wanted_ to give me up in the first place. …they wanted me all along but had to because they knew they were going to die. …that's why they gave me away."

Within a flash Sherlock stood up as sat next to her on the bed, flinging his upper body back onto the mattress as she sat there in shock. "Brilliant job, Madeline. It only took you 13 minutes and 23 seconds to get through a simple deduction. John's still got a couple up on you- it only takes him around 10 minutes for me to walk him through one, but then again he's been with me longer-"

"Who did this?" Madeline said looking back and down at his laying form, he looked at her through his eyelashes.

"…I can't tell you that yet."

"So you know, just like you knew all of this… just like you knew where my parents house was… just like you knew about everything and didn't tell me for the _three weeks_ that I've been here!" She said outraged, tears beginning to fill her eyes again as she was reminded of his betrayal towards her.

Sherlock sat up and put each of his hands on her shoulder as he looked down at her, bending his long neck down slightly to look at her straight in the eyes, "Madeline, you have to trust me-"

"Why? …why should I?"

A light smirk formed at the side of his heart shaped lips, "You already do, Madeline. You don't need to convince me."

"What are you-"

"You ran into my brother, yesterday afternoon, yes? I'm sure he offered you money to spy on me."

She crossed her arms confidently, "Right, and how do you know I didn't take it?"

"I already do."

"You're not even going to ask?"

"No… I know you didn't take it." Sherlock said, there was a slight tone to his voice that caught her off guard and she couldn't place it, "…it's not like you to take it."

Madeline paused for a moment before continuing; "I don't want to trust you after all you hid from me; your brother's the one that gave me the information when you didn't-"

"Madeline I'm going to need you to trust me, in _every_ aspect. Do you understand? You're right, I'm not telling you everything and I am leading you down a strange path, but you have to trust me- or else this will not end well for _any_ of us, do you understand?"

"And if Mycroft comes up to me again offering me information that you refuse to give me yet?"

"I'll leave that up to you, you can take it or leave it if you want Madeline- you're free to make your own choices-"

"Oh I know I am, just wanted to remind you that I can… and I will." A light smile arose on her face as she stared at him.

Sherlock nodded his head and reached next to him picking up the necklace that was next to his thigh, "_To our Madeline_," He read off of the silver heart's inscription, "_Our lovely heart._" Much to her surprise, Sherlock slipped it over her head and around her neck. "Don't want to be losing that, now do we?"

Madeline shook her head in agreement with him.

This man _baffled her_.

Truly, truly-

_Baffled her._

She didn't know what to think of Sherlock Holmes. He'd ignored her for three weeks straight, she finds out he's hiding everything he knows about her- she finds out some of it, slaps him (nearly slicing her hand open on his cheekbone) and now she feels… good. Better, at least. Sad that he parents were killed- anxious to know why… and _who_, but she was relieved and once more- she felt _loved_ knowing that her biological parents had always wanted her. Now she had two sets of parents in her life that had loved her… and _wanted_ her.

She'd never felt such acceptance since coming to England, and now she felt it… even from Sherlock and John, now she felt it knowing she was loved by those who had her first… wait-

Had Sherlock _known_ that this deduction would make her feel better? As she looked at him, clearly unsure of himself as to whether he could stand up now or whether he should wait longer (clearly he was raised in a posh home taught social manners- well, the obvious ones at least).

"Sherlock Holmes, you're the weirdest man I've ever known." Madeline blurted out with a smile on her face.

The lines above Sherlock's nose crinkled as he looked away confused before glancing back at her with his eyes squinted in wonder, "…thank you?"

"You're right you know…" She said, "I do trust you." And without thinking, much to both of their surprise, Madeline leaned in to the cheek she'd slapped- the one that didn't already have the cut (that she didn't know where it was from- she'd certainly ask John later), but the other, and pressed her lips lightly yet firmly on the ridge between the highest point of his cheekbone and the curve down that created that exotic shadow and ridge on his face.

Madeline could feel her cheeks burn as she pulled away, but it was nothing compared to the comfortableness that she could tell had just plagued Sherlock. "oh, uhm, yes, well- yes, well- we should, go, back out- you know, John- and all-" He stuttered looking away from her, Madeline couldn't help but snort as she stood up.

"Come on you weirdo, let's go, I'm hungr-"

_Uuuhhh._

Suddenly an orgasm noise filled the room… the voice of a woman. Sherlock rolled his eyes off to the side in slight frustration.

"Four? Is it?" John's voice sounded from the kitchen.

"What was that?" Madeline inquired as she opened the bedroom door.

"Long story." Sherlock said standing up. "Not really important. Don't bother."

"Maybe not with you but John and I will have a good talk about it over drinks tonight, I'm sure he'll be more than happy to tell me everything." Madeline said, she smiled as Sherlock rolled his eyes at the thought of another night of John and her coming home drunk and upsetting him. He walked out of the bedroom, back to his old cold self as he snubbed past her.

In all the information she'd gained and all the information that she had yet to know- Madeline knew one thing that was for sure- that she was undoubtedly placing her life in the hands of Sherlock Holmes…

And she wasn't worried.

…not yet.

* * *

**Hey all! Hope you enjoyed! **

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**Wiz-Chic **


	10. A Not So Merry Christmas

**It may be July but in this Sherlock story- we've reached Christmas in 221B! … oh how things will change.**

**Same disclaimers still apply!**

* * *

Four days after the deduction and finding out some information about her parents- every lead Sherlock had her go after came up blank. He'd sent her to find pictures of them, to get information on them- nothing turned up. She'd asked Sherlock if he would just talk to Mycroft about it, _"not the time for a family reunion"_ he'd replied.

She was less bothered about hitting dead ends this time around, her heart had finally been somewhat settled at knowing her biological parents had never _really_ wanted to give her away. But there was still an aching in her to know who killed them, and _why._ But numerous conversations with John on the subject settled her a little bit more, "one thing I've learned is that with Sherlock, things just have to take their time and they'll be known when they're meant to be."

So with that, Madeline took to focusing on Christmas. The Christmas party in 221B was in a couple of days and she still had no idea what to get some people. John stood with her in the mall as he looked at a pair of earrings. "What do you think about these Madeline? Do you think Jeanette will like them?"

"Don't you think it's a bit much for earrings? How long have you been seeing her again?"

"2 months. Well, if not earrings, what should I get her then?"

"I don't know like… how about a gift certificate to that new Thai Buffet that just opened down the block-"

"I'm buying a gift for Jeanette now, not you." John said, Madeline smiled innocently at him weaving her arm through his as they continued to walk through the lit up Westfield Shopping Centre. "What did you get Michael?"

"I sent him a picture of Sherlock sleeping."

John immediately cracked up into laughter, his giggles catching on to Madeline who started laughing as well. "What? Are you serious?"

"Oh yeah, Sherlock was out of it- totally dead on the couch after working on that case for 3 days straight and no sleep. I sent him that and some cologne."

"Is it Burberry Brit, Sherlock's cologne?"

"What? No. Wait…" Madeline paused and looked at John, "Sherlock wears cologne?"

"Yeah, of course, you didn't notice?"

Madeline looked away, her cheeks burned slightly under the bright lights of the mall, "No, I just thought… that he smelled like that… naturally."

John stared at her strangely as she avoided his eye contact. As they continued walking, he tried his best to hold back a smile.

* * *

The day before Christmas John sat on his chair near the lit fireplace with his newspaper in his hand as he bent his head down, pretending to read it.

He was still.

Extremely still.

"John, stop twitching your nose, you're making that duck face again." Madeline said blotting her brush over the canvas, trying to get the glow of the fire just right. She'd been painting for a good 2 hours as John read his newspaper, and she was covered in paint.

"Well, I can't help it. By the way, you almost finished? I'm almost done reading the whole bloody thing- soon I'll be in the obituaries."

"As usual John you always miss the importance of things" A deep voice said from the front door, "obituaries are the best part." Sherlock walked in, as usual- with no bags of shopping or any sort in his hands.

"And where were you?" Madeline inquired signing her name in the corner, "There," She smiled, "done."

Eagerly John got up and walked behind her, joined by Sherlock. This was her first attempt at a painting at 221B, and she was nervous to see what they thought.

"Wow, Madeline, I mean just…" John said astonished, "Wow. It's good… it's really really good."

Madeline knew that even if she'd painted swirls and dots all over the canvas that he would have said the same thing, but she enjoyed the compliment nevertheless. Silence fell between the three as they watched Sherlock stare at the canvas, expressionless.

"It is adequate." He stated.

"Uhm… thank you?" Madeline questioned.

"Now, if you don't mind we _do _have an unfortunate amount of people coming over for Christmas tomorrow-"

"It's just Lestrade, Mrs. Hudson and Molly-" John countered.

"As I said, an unfortunate amount." Sherlock snapped off his scarf and headed towards his bedroom.

"We should clean up." Madeline said picking up her brushes. "And you should clean up too, Sherlock."

"I'll do no such thing." He said like a child before slamming the bedroom door, suddenly upset.

John sighed, "It's alright, we'll get it done. Really though, Madeline, this is exquisite."

"Aw," her cheeks burned in happiness, "Thanks John." She reached and wrapped her arms around his torso not moving from her seat.

"I think we'll hang this right over the fireplace, it'll be really cool looking."

"I don't know- grumpy mcgrumperson in there doesn't seem to like it."

"I don't care what he thinks- it belongs in 221B to stay forever."

"Thanks John." He placed a happy kiss on the top of her head before grabbing her cups of paint water, taking them to the kitchen sink.

* * *

So far the Christmas party had revolved around a surprising few amounts of awkward moments. "Don't worry though," John had whispered to her, "I'm sure Sherlock will make up for them in due time."

Jeanette watched Madeline viscously as John had poured her another drink. "Thanks John," Madeline said. "But you should probably get back over to your girlfriend, I think she seems to think something else."

John nodded and went back over to Jeanette talking to her, attempting to explain for the umpteenth time that Madeline was like a sister to him.

Madeline took a seat next to Mrs. Hudson as Lestrade had some small talk with them. Sherlock picked up his violin and began to play '_We Wish You a Merry Christmas.'_ Mrs. Hudson was ecstatic as she watched him play. Throughout the month that Madeline had inhabited 221B she'd began to understand the relationship between Sherlock and Mrs. Hudson- and it seemed sweet and slightly upsetting at times, a strange one, but nevertheless… there it was.

When Sherlock finished the song, he took a slight bow as everyone clapped for him.

"Oh Sherlock," Mrs. Hudson laughed, "I wish you could have worn the one with the antlers!"

"Some things are better left to the imagination, Mrs. Hudson." He said with a smile on his face.

Everything seemed to be going pleasantly enough, minus Sherlock purposely forgetting Jeanette's name only to have to opportunity to blatantly insult her to her face- things were good. Until a girl walked in, a girl that Madeline had only heard about in context of Bart's Hospital- Molly Hooper.

Madeline had introduced herself to the girl who seemed extremely sweet, but Madeline couldn't help but cringe as she saw how over-done the girl was once John had removed her jacket. _Holy-Mary_ were John's words, Mrs. Hudson seemed pleased with the outfit. That wasn't the problem- but the sparkly silver on the top of the dress matching with these huge sparkly silver hoop earrings that matched with the silver bow in her hair which was poofed at the top of her overly-make-uped face was, quite simple, _too much._ Madeline cringed at what was certainly going to come from Sherlock's mouth- another painful deduction. And that's what they got.

"…Obviously compensating for the size of her mouth and breasts…" Sherlock's words left him as he opened the card, clearly- the box was meant for him.

"You always say such horrible things…" She'd said, "Always… _always…_"

This girl clearly liked Sherlock… _loved him_, maybe. Madeline was in a place somewhere between wanting to be the girl's best friend and wanting to throw her out of the window.

"Forgive me…" he'd replied before placing a kiss on her cheek.

And in that moment, in that split second that Sherlock had apologized and placed the kiss on Molly's cheek- Madeline had something she'd never felt before- _envy._ An upsetting swirl of emotion ran through her, she scolded herself. _He's a beast, he's a beast…_ she repeated to herself, finally getting her insane stomach out of control. But her victory was short lived as that _Irene_ woman texted him.

_Uuuhhh._

Her voice rang throughout the flat causing momentary panic.

When Molly and Lestrade had left, both disappointed, and Sherlock had gone to the morgue with his brother, Madeline had found herself in Sherlock's room- alone and upset.

Not that she was in there for him- no, it was Friday night and it was her turn to sleep in the bed.

As she sat on the edge of it, she thought back on her life and how much it had changed. She got up and walked to the little mini-dresser in the corner. It was locked from the top and was a gift from John; he'd figured there were certain private things she wanted to keep for herself. She was grateful for this- living with two straight men was certainly a whirlwind different than living with one gay guy as she'd lived with her whole of her life.

She kneeled down to it and untucked her necklace from under her blouse, she'd strung the key in next to the engraved heart from her parents.

Nothing out of the ordinary was in the drawers, certain pairs of panties she didn't want either man to see, certain sketches and pictures she kept to her self, tampons- and finally her eye caught what she was looking for without even knowing it.

Madeline picked up the ring in the corner of the dresser where it had laid, forgotten. "Oh my gosh, Danny…" She whispered placing the ring on her finger. Michael had indicated through emails that Danny hadn't stopped coming to the coffee shop every single morning since she'd left, waiting for her to come back. She still hadn't given him an answer. Michael told her that he'd told him that she just needed some time alone to clear her head. Well, as of that moment, Madeline thought sarcastically as she admired the large engagement ring on her hand, a whole lot-a nothing was clear to her anymore.

Suddenly, like a shot, the bedroom door slammed open and in walked Sherlock. A gulf of air hit Madeline in the face, she could smell the cigarette smoke come off of him.

… something was wrong.

In no less than 3 seconds had Sherlock made his deduction. He stared at Madeline's shocked face, moved his eyes to the open dresser, and slid them back over landing on Madeline's hand... that wore the engagement ring from Danny.

Sherlock looked away, turned around, walked out, and slammed the door behind him.

Madeline felt herself sit for minutes, frozen in the same place. She didn't know what the _hell_ just happened, but deep in her gut she wished she could have taken it back and she didn't know why... or what she wanted to take back. Moments later John Watson walked in, sighing as he walked towards her. He kneeled down and spoke in a soft voice so as to not be overheard, "Hey so, apparently Irene Adler is dead."

"Oh." Madeline said, so that's why he smelt like a cigarette. What, it's not like she _knew _the woman or anything. And after hearing what she'd done to Sherlock, Madeline felt little sympathy for such a woman.

"Yeah, I know it's your night to sleep in here but, I was thinking-"

"Maybe I take the night off and go back to the couch?"

"If you wouldn't mind. But feel free to have my bed, I haven't taken a turn on the couch in ages."

"What about Jeanette?"

John paused, "didn't work out, exactly."

"Ah," Madeline nodded already knowing why, "bit not good huh?" She squeezed the ring off of her finger and put it in the palm of John's hand, he looked down at it surprised. She turned her necklace once, around automatically locking the drawers while still open, "I'm going to go inform him that I don't want to sleep in here tonight, would you mind closing up for me?"

Madeline didn't wait for an answer as she arose and walked out of the bedroom. John shrugged and placed her ring in the dresser. Just as he was going to close the drawer, something caught his eye.

_Oh, more drawings!_ He thought excitedly. Although he was sure Madeline didn't believe it, he really had liked the painting she'd done of him in front of the fireplace and he was anxious to see more of what she could do. John knew he shouldn't… this was her own personal place, and _he'd _been the one who had bought it for her in the first place… but his curiosity got the best of him.

John quickly took out the manila envelope and opened it, he chuckled as he saw the picture of Michael with his arms around an upset Sherlock that she'd taken back in Colorado. John truly loved that photo. He flipped it over and saw the piece of paper with her parents address on it. Next there were more pictures of Michael doing numerous poses for Madeline.

Once he finished going through all of those John raised his eyebrows as he was met with a drawing this time; there was a sketch of a pair of hands. Hands with long fingers as they seemed to be plucking a violin. The sketch was done on the back of a plumbing flyer that had been left in front of 221B.

_Is that…?_ John began to ask himself, but he shook his head. _No, no way._

But as he turned the paper over to look at a new piece, there was no doubt left in his mind to who it was. There was a sketch of Sherlock looking into the microscope in the kitchen that was done on the back of a paper plate.

The next was a picture of Sherlock and John just as they walked out the door. Sherlock was flipping his coat collar up as he always did. Both of them not paying attention to the direction of where the picture was taken _I don't even remember this..._ John thought to himself.

Next was a sketch of Sherlock playing the violin by the window with his eyes closed that was done on a napkin.

Then there was a picture of Sherlock sitting in his chair by himself, clearly lost in his mind palace.

She'd done all of these without him even noticing… without John noticing... without _her_ even noticing that she was doing them, probably.

"My god," John whispered to himself with a smile on his face. He'd thought it many times, but as he went through each picture, the theory he had in his mind was suddenly a reality.

Finally, he reached the back of the envelope and there laid a napkin from the plane. John had a feeling of what he was going to find but he flipped it over anyways, and there was a sketch of Sherlock Holmes sleeping on the flight from Colorado to London taken from the perspective of Madeline who had sat on the other side of him during the flight.

Quickly John put them all back into the envelope, shoved it into the drawer, and closed the little dresser shut. Infatuations were naturally going to happen if a single straight girl and a single straight guy lived together... and since John knew that his relationship with her was nothing more than a brother/sister relationship- that left her to look at Sherlock.

_Well, he's certainly not a bad looking bloke._ John thought to himself, he knew that much was certain. But he shook his head confidently as he stood up. There was _nothing_ in either Madeline or Sherlock's actions that would suggest that they were having anything but a friend relationship. No, no way.

_It's an infatuation,_ John concluded, _just an infatuation. And soon, she'll be over it._

John adored his friend, dearly, although he'd never admit it aloud. But he knew the quicker he got Madeline over this phase, the better. Sherlock Holmes did not _feel _like normal people felt, John thought. As he exited the bedroom he headed into the living room where Madeline was eating a rather large piece of cake on the couch, looking rather depressed as Sherlock stood and played _O Holy Night_ on the violin.

John sat down in his chair and looked between the two of them who were absolutely oblivious of the other, both caught up in their own world.

Sherlock sad over Irene, Madeline sad over Irene- but both for very different reasons. John sighed and took out his phone sending a quick message to an old friend.

A friend he'd known from Bart's from before the war. A friend that he'd recently just caught up with. A friend that was male, in his mid 30's, handsome, a doctor… and _perfect_ for Madeline.

* * *

**Phew! Yay for a long chapter! **

**Please don't forget to comment my lovelies :) **


	11. Jeepers Creepers

**Special thanks for:** TheGirlWhoImagined **For commenting on all the chapters! And a great thanks to those who have commented on this last chapter****, thegirlwhoimagined,** **Lindsay Ruthann, and AspiringInstrumentalist.**

**Also, some exciting news- I finally got a poster for the fic! Make sure to go to my profile to check out the link for it, and also for the link of the Bach song that this part is named after. **

**Enjoy! **

* * *

Sherlock lay in his bed looking at the ceiling.

So, Irene Adler was dead.

How did he feel about that?

…did he feel much at all? He _barely knew the woman after all_…

That was a lie that had come out of Mycroft's mouth and they both knew it, for Sherlock to really get to know someone- all it took was a good 2 minutes- 5 would be more than enough and even though he'd drawn blanks when first looking at her, in little time Sherlock knew about Irene Adler- he knew enough. All he'd needed to know.

She was vindictive.

A liar, a cheat, and wouldn't think twice about betrayal for her own benefit…

But she'd also challenged him, alluded him… made him stutter.

Sherlock took a deep breath and shook his head. Irene Adler had the best qualities of a woman- and also, the absolute very worst.

And she was dead now.

And that was that.

He took a mental note to move the woman to the back of his mind palace later.

He now had to focus on breaking into her mobile.

And Madeline.

_What?_ He scolded himself crinkling up his eyes, _where the hell did that come from?_

Sherlock shook his head once more in an effort to clear his mind on the subject of Madeline Smith. She had been, without a doubt, the weirdest choice he had ever made- bringing her to London.

His plan was mad, absolutely insane- but it was working… it had to work.

He twiddled his toes unconsciously beneath the sheets.

Madeline Smith, he'd concluded, was the most strange, uncommon creature he had ever come across. Most ladies of her age (mid-20's) took to make themselves at their most appealing for guys to go after seeing as they biologically realize that they are getting towards the time in which most of them would wish to settle down. But Madeline… she was something else.

She ate until she reached bloatation, walked around all day with paint and charcoal under her bitten nails, no makeup on, had no care for the state of her feet as she continued on with ballet- it crunching her toes and bending her ankle downwards, and she continuously made crude jokes constantly. Her sarcasm and wit had the ability to take Sherlock back at its quickness, as he couldn't even deny she was clever and witty- and that she appreciated the workings of her brains more than her appearance.

Clearly she was unaware of herself and how she appeared to others.

During the Saturday night's when she'd go out with John, Lestrade, and Stamford, Madeline put in some effort. Light makeup, a nice dress, heels- but never overdone and always looking casual-

_-what is wrong with me?_ Sherlock reached up and began to rub his temples- attempting to clear his min-

But perfume… day or night, out or in- she always wore perfume-

Dolce and Gabanna: Rose/The One-

_Stop it! Stop it! _Sherlock scolded himself.

Perfume? Had he _really_ reduced his deduction skills to deducing useless things such as her perfume?

_No, she's here for a purpose- for the purpose of who her parents were. That is it. Her perfume, or her long wavy brown hair- have no influence or purpose or meaning to anything that she is meant for. …nor is the olive colour of her skin of importance… or the brown of her eyes… or the fact that she could make the best brownies he'd ever tasted in his life as she'd done just last week-_

"ENOUGH!" Sherlock bellowed loudly, frightening even himself as the word came running out of his mouth. For the first time, ever, wanting his mind to just _shut the hell up!_

And it was no matter to him that only hours ago had he walked in and saw her wearing that _ridiculous absurdly over thought out engagement ring_ that Danny had given her. No matter... no matter...

"None at all." He said decidedly to himself.

"_AAHHHHH!" _A loud screeching scream came from the living room; it took a moment for Sherlock to gather that it was real- and that it was Madeline.

He immediately jumped up from the bed, grabbed his gun and ran into the living room to find Madeline standing on the table pointing at the ground with a look of horror in her eyes.

"Ohmygod, Ohmygod, Ohmygod, Ohmygod, Ohmygod…" She repeated under her breath.

Sherlock looked around maddeningly, clearly John hadn't heard the scream or had slept through it; either way, Sherlock needed to know. "What is it? What's wrong?" He demanded looking at her sternly.

Madeline looked at him with tears in her eyes as her shaky finger pointed to the ground, and there, right before him on the floor, stood a large, black, fuzzy spider that was at least the size of his fist. It's legs were long and its belly was full and round. Even Sherlock had to admit, that was the largest spider he'd ever seen.

Sherlock let out the frustrated breath that was in his chest, "This was what you screamed about? I thought someone was in here trying to kill you."

"There is something in here trying to kill me!" She shrieked, shoving her finger towards the floor. "Sherlock, please, please get rid of it. I found it on the blanket while I was sleeping, please-" She pleaded.

Sherlock furrowed his eyebrows at her as he took a moment to deduce. There were tears in her eyes, her breathing was heavy and quick, her pupils- dilated, her whole body seemed to shake as she held on to herself. This wasn't a typical "freak-out" that Sherlock had heard certain others sometimes did for attention, this was… _a phobia_…. a _real_ phobia_._

_...How fascinating._

Without blinking an eye Sherlock aimed his gun at the spider and shot, striking it right on. Madeline slapped her hand over her mouth as she stared down at it wide eyed, its middle was burst, the bullet stuck in the floor surrounded by puss while the eight legs of the once living insect were scattered around it. She'd never seen a gun shot before let a long a large insect killed by said gun.

"Uhm…" Madeline's voice shook, "Thank you." She could feel her legs begin to give out from under her, Sherlock was quick by her side as he caught her from falling off the table, setting her to stand on the ground with most of her weight on his side as he wrapped his arm around her shoulders.

"Mrs. Hudson should be fine to clean this up in the morning."

"Uhmm…" She began, "I know your lady-friend died but I don't think I can sleep here tonight-"

"I know. Come." He demanded as he walked her away from the scene towards his bedroom.

"Why aren't John or Mrs. Hudson awake at the gunshot sound?"

"They're used to it." He replied nonchalantly closing the bedroom door behind them, throwing his gun on the stand next to his bed. "Take the bed, I'll sleep in the chair."

Madeline watched as he grabbed a blanket and walked towards it. Surely, Sherlock came from a particular background as he always remained the perfect gentleman- even while he could still be the biggest asshole. But tonight he was only being one of those things to Madeline… only the gentleman.

"Wait, no." Madeline said, he stopped and looked back at her. "I'm not going to take your bed from you, I'll sleep on the chair."

"That is out of the question. At least the couch is properly furnished and has enough cushion on it to give you a somewhat good nights rest- sleeping in a chair is no better than sleeping on a plane-"

"And you expect me to let you? After you just saved me?" Sherlock looked away, clearly not agreeing with her choice of using the word _save _when it came to him. "How about we… share?" She suggested.

Sherlock looked at her like she was a madwoman and that was the last thing in the world he would ever agree to. Her words may have been clever when they wanted to be, but he would not let her win this argument.

Sherlock Holmes shared his bed with no one.

* * *

Minutes later, as they lay in bed side by side, not touching, both staring up at the ceiling, neither could fall asleep. Whether it was because of their close proximity, the strange comfort of the situation, or that neither were particularly tired after the spider-fright, they didn't know.

"The phobia, do you know why you have it? Or where you got it from?" Sherlock asked suddenly breaking the silence between them. His deep voice vibrated into the mattress, she could feel the vibrato against her back and it ran up her neck in tingles.

"Yes. …One time, when Michael and I were really young… he got into this prank-playing phase with his friends. My parents thought it would blow over and he wouldn't do anything too extreme…" Sherlock looked at her profile, watching as she spoke. "His friends, without him knowing, came up with this brilliant plan to lock me in our extremely small bathroom with about 13 huge spiders that they'd captured from the backyard…" She swallowed and perked her lips as she spoke still staring at the ceiling, "I couldn't stop screaming- they were all over me, biting me all over my body. His friends didn't let me out for a good 45 minutes. I was stuck in there with them, nothing to kill them with. The were everywhere- in my hair, on my legs, crawling down my back… Finally, when Michael found them he unlocked the door and let me out, he got them all off of me and never spoke to those friends of his again. …My parents tried to send me to therapy, but I was too young to know what the hell my therapist was talking about and all his metaphors he'd made with the spiders- so after a session or two they just took me out. I had bites all over my body for a while and took 6 or 7 showers a day for 7 months after that. …I was only 6 years old at the time I think…. Still sticks with me, can't really seem to change it."

Finally, Madeline took to turn and face Sherlock who was staring at her intently; his piercing eyes boring into her. " … it usually doesn't go away, those sort of fears. They remain subconsciously in a persons psyche, especially when the effects were created at such a young age."

Madeline nodded her head; they continued to look at each other in silence. "You don't tell many people this story." He stated.

Madeline shook her head, "Nope, just you." She smiled up at him, "you did rescue me after all."

"Mmm." Sherlock hummed in disagreement, she'd noticed he didn't like the word _save_ even though she stuck by the fact that he had, so she tried something different and it still didn't agree with him. "still not my preference of word."

"Sherlock, you said that you thought someone was trying to kill me…" Sherlock averted his eyes for a moment or two before returning them to look at her, "why did you think someone was trying to kill me?"

He didn't reply as he continued to stare emotionless.

"Sherlock…" her voice shook, "Is someone going to try to kill me?"

"I won't let _anyone_ even touch you if you don't want them to." The words left his mouth before he could even catch them; even Sherlock was shocked that he'd said them. But they unconsciously came out... _fascinating._ He thought... _but not in a good way. _His thoughts of late worried him, his actions of late worried him- and this declaration to Madeline wasn't helping his case. _What is happening to me? _He thought as he looked down at her, he could tell her heart was racing by the sound of her light breath... it was racing unusually fast.

Madeline took a moment, her heart swelled, even though he was talking about her in context of the investigation, she would have been lying to herself had she denied the fact that his words brought a warmth to her belly. "I trust you, Sherlock Holmes." She whispered, nearing her head towards his.

She could feel his warm breath across her face as he watched her curiously, not moving away as she neared her face to his. Reaching up, Madeline moved a curl across his forehead away from his bright eyes, she could feel his breath begin to quicken.

Feeling daring, Madeline took her same shaky hands and ran her fingers across his cheekbone, the same one she'd kissed. She could've almost _sworn_ she saw him almost close his eyes at the contact- but either way, he continued to look at her, waiting to see what she would do next.

Madeline took the tip of her finger and ran it along the length of his nose, _perfect,_ she thought to herself. Finally, her fingers trembled as they reached his lips, his _perfect lips_. She ran them across his upper lip with his defined cupids bow before making their way down to his full bottom lip, it was like a warm pillow beneath her fingers. He opened his lips slightly, releasing a warm sweet breath across her hand.

Finally, Madeline looked up into his eyes. Her heart beat wildly in her chest as she saw that they were now nearly black as he stared at her. He spoke from the depths of his chest, _"Do it."_ he demanded of her in a whisper. Madeline leaned in and closed her eyes; she could feel his soft sweet lips begin to press against hers…

_"Madeline… Madeline… MADELINE!" _

Madeline felt her body being shaken and opened her eyes only to find Sherlock Holmes staring at her curiously.

"Wha… what happened?" She asked breathlessly, absurdly aware of the close proximity they were in, "did I dream it all? Did I dream the spider?"

"No, you just passed out after I told you that… I would ...protect you and you said that you… trusted me." All of those words felt strange on Sherlock's mouth. "Then your eyes promptly rolled to the back of your head and passed out like a dying fish."

Madeline looked up at him incredulously, "You mean I… _fainted?_" She said, disgusted with herself. "What am I, an 18th century damsel in distress?"

"Don't put too much thought on it, it's quite common for one to pass out after having just faced a phobia of theirs. Sometimes the shock doesn't hit until later; in your case, during our little conversation."

Sherlock fell back on his back looking away from her, up towards the ceiling.

Madeline felt her cheeks began to burn relentlessly, "When I was passed out, did I… say anything?"

"No." Sherlock said sternly.

"Oh," Madeline let out a sigh of relief, "Good." Even though the disappointment of the almost kiss having been a dream, she felt reassured that she hadn't made even more of an ass out of herself than she already had.

"Now, lets try and get some sleep shall we? Tomorrow John's going to try and set you up with one of his friends. It's going to be a long day."

"Wait, what?" Madeline said, shocked.

"Nothing. Go to sleep." Sherlock demanded still not looking at her.

Madeline sighed and turned away from Sherlock, she wasn't going to get any more information out of him and she certainly wasn't going to be able to fall asleep if she was facing him… not especially after that dream she'd had.

So Madeline turned away from him and closed her eyes … but still, even with her eyes closed in a deep dream world, all she could see… was his face.

* * *

**What a dream what a dream… I envy that dream. **

**Wish I got dreams like that about that man.**

**Comments are the best thing a writer could ask for, so please do :) **


	12. A Performance for the Invisible Man

**A huge thank you to Lindsay Ruthann, CSRoche, "Guest", and TheGirlWho Imagined for commenting! **

**Lindsay ****Ruthann**: Don't worry just hang in tight and there _will_ be some sort of action... promise :)

* * *

The next morning Madeline Smith found herself alone in the big bed of Sherlock Holmes. This was not surprising of course- she did expect that the consulting detective was neither a cuddler or a sentimental person. He wasn't used to either, as she knew both concepts were foreign to him. Madeline took a moment in the bed to let his scent engulf her… she loved his scent.

_Just his smell though… just his smell_. She told herself.

She reminisced about the previous night still disbelieving that she'd _actually_ managed to sleep after having woken up in the middle of the night with her biggest nightmare crawling on top of her. Madeline couldn't deny it had a lot to do with Sherlock, as he'd… helped her, with the little situation.

And he was being so_… kind. _She thought to herself strangely, _well, as kind as Sherlock Holmes can be._

This couldn't have been out of character, he was ever the gentleman last night and she couldn't recall one comment that had pissed her off. Maybe that's why she had that dream… Madeline began to wonder how his soft cupids bow would _actually_ feel in between her lips as she would suck and lick it- Madeline shook her head vigorously- it had just been a dream... and _she blushed _just thinking about it.

Maybe Sherlock Holmes had good intentions… most of the time, but perhaps in the process was just misunderstood because of his slight inept social qualities. _He's a high functioning sociopath._ John had told her one night when she asked him if Sherlock had any documented social disabilities.

Madeline buried her face in his warm pillow one last (quick) time, taking in a deep breath before jumping out of the bed; her stomach was grumbling and she knew it was time she snap out of her daydreams. She made her way into the living room to find Sherlock sitting at the table in his blue robe reading the paper with John was sitting next to him, sipping on his coffee. He turned to her and smiled, "Good morning Madeline."

"Morning John!" She said happily, Sherlock paid her no attention as he sipped from his cup and continued to read, but she wasn't foolish enough to expect any attention from Sherlock just because he'd helped her last night. Sherlock Holmes was always going to be Sherlock Holmes, there was no magical moment that was ever going to change that.

Madeline sighed happily pouring herself a cup of coffee as she saw the bullet hole that was stuck in the floor, whatever remnants of the spider that had been there were now cleaned up. "Oh thank god." She grabbed herself a cold slice of pizza from the fridge to eat.

"Yeah, I heard, busy night huh?" John asked casually, "bit of a big one? I didn't get to see it but I heard Mrs. Hudson complaining about it all morning- about having to clean it up and having to find all the legs that were scattered all over the floor."

Madeline took a seat in John's chair, making herself comfortable before taking a bite of her pizza. "Oh yeah, it was huge. I was scared to death, and to be honest I have to say I wouldn't have been able to contain myself if Sher-"

"It's nine in the morning, Miss Smith." Sherlock stated rudely cutting her off as he stared at her suddenly, his eyebrows raised, "And you're eating pizza?"

Whatever exceptionally kind thoughts Madeline had about Sherlock that morning had officially vanished.

_The beast is back._ She thought, pursing her lips together.

"Excuse me, _Mister Holmes,_" She _hated_ when he was formal with her and _he knew _that. So she chose to mock him right back, "But I can eat whatever I want, whenever I want. So deal with it." She stuck out her tongue at him and blew making an insulting noise with her mouth.

Sherlock rolled his eyes with exaggeration before returning to his paper; John chuckled lightly at Madeline. "Take it easy on each other, will you? After all Madeline, you are the first person to get Sherlock Holmes to sleep somewhere other than where he chooses to."

Madeline furrowed her eyebrows in confusion, "…what?"

"Yeah, you kicked him out of his bed even after the woman died? He's been whining all morning about sleeping on that bloody couch-"

Madeline looked to the couch; there was a pillow and blanket messily draped over it... but Shelock had slept next to _her_ all night in _his bed_, she was certain of that. Even his side of the bed was still warm by the time she'd woken up. Quickly her eyes darted to Sherlock who took a sudden glance at her- just for a millisecond- before returning his eyes back to the paper.

"Oh… yeah…" Madeline nodded her head, "What can I say, I'm that convincing." She didn't know why she agreed with the lie, especially after that comment he made about her eating habits.

John nodded, "Only Sherlock Holmes would be ok with sleeping next to a gigantic mess of a blown up spider."

Without looking up from his newspaper, Sherlock replied coolly, "I keep heads in the fridge and eyeballs in the microwave, it's hardly a jump for me to sleep next to a deceased insect- no matter how large it may have been."

It would be almost a week before Madeline and Sherlock would have another interaction.

* * *

New Years Eve, 6 days later.

Madeline found herself alone with Sherlock in the living room on that particular day. She sat across him still in John's chair, watching as he plucked his violin lost in thought. John was downstairs helping Mrs. Hudson put away her groceries. Apparently they'd had plans for them all to go out on New Years eve, but the sudden apparent return of Irene Adler yesterday had changed that.

Madeline was happy that the woman was alive- she certainly didn't want anyone dead. But she wished that while she was alive she would leave Sherlock the hell alon- _no,_ Madeline thought urgently, _221b, I want her to leave 221b alone. Not Sherlock, not the beast, him I don't care about._

"Why did you lie to John?" She asked suddenly. The question had been on the tip of her tongue since Christmas day, and John and Sherlock had been away on a case for the past three days so there was little opportunity for her and Sherlock to have the privacy for her to ask what had been plaguing her mind.

Sherlock stopped plucking for a moment, but then resumed as if she hadn't asked anything.

"About the bed on Christmas day? Why did you lie to him about… sleeping next to me in your bed?"

Many moments went by before Sherlock spoke up inquisitively, still not looking at her, "Why did you go along with it?" He finally chose to look at her and stopped plucking, "Especially after my comment on your eating habits that morning."

"Oh, so you _did_ know you were being an asshole."

"Yes, when I said that comment, I was perfectly aware."

"Congratulations, the first step is admitting you have a problem." She said sarcastically. Sherlock glared his eyes at Madeline before looking away once more, continuing to pluck.

They sat in the comfortable tune of Sherlock's random pluckings for many minutes, listening to John and Mrs. Hudson downstairs have happy conversations about her new flower pots.

"I never gave you your Christmas gift." Sherlock said suddenly, still looking away, still plucking. Madeline looked up at him surprised.

"What?"

"Your gift." He said impatiently, "It's under John's chair."

Madeline furrowed her eyebrows, wondering why he put it there. _Probably for no one to find_. She thought. Feeling beneath her chair she felt a hard rectangular box, she pulled it out. It was a white box with a pink ribbon wrapped around it. _…Pink?_ She thought disbelieving.

"The employee wrapped it when I bought it." Sherlock said as though reading her thoughts.

_Ok, that makes more sense._ Madeline opened the little card that was threaded with the ribbon.

_For Madeline. _

Not even a 'From Sherlock' was on it. Just a statement- _For Madeline._

"Oh! Uhm… thank you."

Sherlock sighed impatiently rolling his eyes slightly to the side even farther away from her, "Don't thank me till you've opened it." He muttered under his breath clearly for her to hear.

Madeline felt her pulse quicken- how could he _still _manage to be an ass while simultaneously giving her a Christmas gift? "Did you get my gift?" She asked pointedly.

Sherlock reached to the table next to him coolly and lifted the box of violin rosin's (sticks of wax for his violin bow) that she'd gotten him. Her cheeks reddened a little bit- she was on an extremely tight budget and couldn't afford much for anyone. Rosin's were notoriously cheap and she hoped he didn't think low of her now for getting him something for only about $12 American dollars. It was all she could afford. Madeline averted her eyes from Sherlock and brought her attention back to the gift that sat in her lap.

Madeline didn't see, but as she was unraveling the ribbon that tied the box, Sherlock was stealing a look at her- watching as she opened the box, lifting it's top. He watched her jaw drop as she lifted one of the contents. He observed as her breath left her chest while her marveling at the gift, a light pink colour of joy rising from her collar bones to her cheeks. Sherlock immediately looked away from her when he felt his stomach clench at this. It felt like his insides were being squeezed. He closed his eyes once and took a light breath to calm himself, but the sound of her voice interrupted his meditation, he glanced at her neutrally.

"Oh my god…" Madeline exclaimed, looking at them in disbelief, "These are… these are…" She looked at Sherlock who looked at her emotionless, "These are Gaynor Miden's pointe ballet shoes- how did you aff…?" She almost found herself asking how he could afford them but quickly stopped herself when she saw him quirk up an eyebrow- Sherlock was rich and even she knew it. Though he never flaunted it and never spoke of it, his lack of struggling to buy nice things (dressing himself from head to toe in Yves Saint Laurent for example) made it obvious he had a large amount of money settled behind him. She looked down at the pointe shoes and ran her fingers along the light pink satin, "I could never afford these no matter how much I tried to save up." She said softly. Madeline looked up at Sherlock sincerely, "Thank you Sherlock, really, thank you."

Sherlock didn't change expression; the only indication that he'd heard her was the clearing of his throat before he looked away, continuing to pluck his violin. This didn't bother Madeline as she didn't expect much more from him. She smiled as she took them out of the box, and placed her feet in them- wrapping the ribbons around her ankles.

They fit perfectly, they molded to her feet like gloves. Although it would take a while before she could break into them, she'd have to hammer the pointe's a bit (as usual)- but they were perfect... "How did you know all of my foot measurements?" Madeline asked suddenly. "Ballet pointe measurements are different than regular shoe measurements. And there's quite a few of them to know…"

Madeline watched as Sherlock didn't answer her, as if she weren't there. He clearly wasn't going to answer that question. She shrugged, it didn't matter- she hadn't bought a new pair of pointe shoes in at least 7 years and hers were worn out past the point of being appropriate or safe. Now she had… _these._ These gorgeous magnificent pointes… that she'd never get to show off. "It's too bad." She said under her breath.

"What is?" Sherlock asked suddenly, still not looking at her. He carefully reached over to the box on the table next to him and took a rosin out of the batch she'd given him. Sherlock began to delicately run it along the horse hair of his bow, back and forth with his long fingers.

Madeline was shocked he answered (as she _was_ talking to herself) and she was certain he'd been lost in his mind palace, _Guess not._ "Oh just that, you know, my hopes of being professional are long gone. I took too much time off, no one would bother with a 25 year old who can't even dance half as well as when she did when she was 15. These shoe's will never see a real stage, that's what's too bad."

"Your quickness to give in to failure is a weakness in your character." Sherlock stated suddenly looking directly at her, his eyes caught her off guard with intensity.

"Is that so?" Madeline said humorously, a strange heat suddenly building up in the pit of her stomach."I'm **not** a professional ballerina **and** I'm **not** a professional artist- I dance during open hours and I paint my friends for them to hang up in their living rooms," her words were stinging with bitterness, "I'm a _barista_, Sherlock, or did you forget that you picked me up from my family owned café?"

Madeline had known what she'd given up for her family- she'd given up much of her life and all of her dreams. Not that she regretted it, she didn't, but she always found herself wishing that things had been different. That some of her life had been different."…It's not weakness it's a reality." She added softly.

"Hmm…" Sherlock hummed looking at her through this eyelashes with his head tilted down, "Is that _so_?" He emphasized the last word with one last swipe with the rosin at the hairs on his bow. Madeline didn't know how to reply as he lifted the violin to his shoulder and began to tune it, his long fingers twisting the ends of the neck. She didn't know what sort of reply she was expecting- but that was not it.

A silence rested between them. It made Madeline uneasy. Sometimes when Sherlock made simple statements- it meant he knew more than you knew and he didn't want to let on. And since she was the topic of his last simple comment- she knew he knew more about her in that moment than she ever did.

And that frightened her and calmed her all at the same time.

"Did you know that Ballerina's use rosin's too?" Madeline said suddenly, wanting to roll her eyes at herself. She couldn't stand that the atmosphere became awkward- well, on her end it seemed to. _Why do I always end up telling him things about me that I'd never say in my life?_

"Hm." Was Sherlock's reply as he moved the violin back to his lap, continuing to tune it.

"Uhm, yep. Before a performance or practice there's a box of it in the corner of every dance place… makes the shoes sticky so we you know… don't fall… and stuff." Madeline finished lamely. However she found the familiar heavy steps of John Watson that were clunking up the steps save her. She was giving an awkward fact-giving mini-lecture to _freaking_ Sherlock Holmes- who probably knew _more_ about everything she just spent the last 30 seconds telling him about.

And yet, no snippy arrogant thought surprised, _That's... weird for him._

"Hey you two I- " John stopped once he caught sight of them sitting across from one another.

"John." Sherlock said routinely, glancing his way momentarily.

"Madeline, _wow!_" He exclaimed walking towards her, he was wearing the new cheap sweater she'd gotten him for Christmas. _Bless his heart_ Madeline thought; it was nice but not as nice as some of the other sweaters he owned. John pointed at her shoes, "_those_ are lovely! I don't remember you opening those last week, who got you those?"

Madeline didn't know how to reply, she looked down at them on her feet, "uhhh…" Should she just say they were from Sherlock? But he'd already lied to John about the couch ordeal on Christmas, clearly he didn't want anyone to know he even had close contact of any sort with her- so maybe she should say that Michael sent them-?

"They're from me." Sherlock said suddenly. John's eyes turned to Sherlock more than a little surprised. Sherlock met John's stare nonchalantly. "I think I have enough basic social conduct to know that when someone gets you a gift on Christmas, that you return the favour."

Madeline felt her heart slightly fall but shook herself out of it, _what are you expecting you idiot? _She was taken out of her thoughts when John turned towards her again, "Oh yeah, Madeline, that reminds me- I have this friend from Bart's- an old friend, his name is Jack," Madeline looked up at John with a curious expression- _is this what Sherlock was talking about last night? About him setting me up? Did Sherlock help plan this or something?_ "and uhm, he's about 33, extremely handsome, he's a cardiologist and I told him about you- he'd like me to set you two up. I thought what a great idea! Right? You two would work so well I think, **and** he has season tickets to the London Ballet!"

"Oh!" Madeline exclaimed, unsure of herself. She took a glance to Sherlock to try and find an answer from him (she didn't understand why she would), but he got up from his seat quickly and adjusted his suit jacket before walking into the kitchen not glancing at either her or John. Madeline looked up at John and smiled with a closed mouth,_ I hate set-ups._ "Okay! That sounds great!"

"Perfect!" John smiled relieved, "He says he has tickets to the ballet tonight."

"Tonight?" She inquired surprised- seemed a bit soon.

"Well, yes of course it's tonight, it is New Years eve. Last chance for this show before it goes out of season, you know." He chuckled.

"I'll have to get back to you on that, actually, tonight seems a bit soon, I don't know what's happening exactly. What's the show exactly?"

"The Nutcracker."

Madeline smiled with faux excitement, _I __hate the nutcracker._ "Ok then, I will let you know soon."

John nodded, happy that he could set something up, "Good! Now, let's get you up on those tippy toes."

"Woe!" Madeline exclaimed as John grabbed her arms and pulled her up to her feet, catching her off guard.

"Now," John said taking his seat from behind her and looking up at her expectantly, "You've been here almost two months Madeline Smith and I want to see why you're all about. I've seen you paint but I've yet to see you dance." Madeline felt her cheeks burn at the thought of dancing in the middle of 221B Baker Street.

"Oh, John, no, I couldn't-"

"Please? Just a little bit. I'm not a big fan of ballet, but I'm a big fan of you and who knows, maybe you'll get me to like the pretentious dance form, hm?"

Madeline smiled down at John, he was so lovely sometimes she couldn't help but give in to his requests. She could see Sherlock in the peripherals of her eye; he was looking intently through his microscope clearly lost in his own world. Sighing, Madeline took a few steps into the empty space of the living room, squared in between the kitchen, the chairs, the table, and the couch.

"Off you go then!" John encouraged flicking his wrist at her with a smile on his face. "Wait wait wait!- Mrs. Hudson!" John called.

"What? John- this really isn't a big deal-"

"Oh come on, you know Mrs. Hudson will love it." He insisted, within moments Mrs. Hudson was walking through the living room to sit next to John.

"Oh how lovely!" She exclaimed, "I always did like the ballet, such elegant creatures. I could have been a ballerina but I was told ever since I was a little girl that I had weak ankles…"

Madeline took one last security glance at Sherlock to make sure he was not watching. She was pleased when she saw his eyes glued to the lenses of the microscope. "Ok well, this is nothing special." She said walking around, moving the chairs and whatever else was in her way to having more space until she had a good amount of bare floor space around her.

"Come on now, get on with it! We wanna see a show!" John shouted playfully wrapping his arm around Mrs. Hudson who beamed excitedly.

"Okay okay," Madeline giggled, she rolled up the yoga pants she was wearing until they were at the very tops of her thighs exposing all of both of her legs.

"ooohh!"

"Oh shut up John," She laughed, "I can't dance with pants," She adjusted her tank top to make sure her chest wouldn't fall out, especially since she wasn't wearing a bra, _Don't want a wardrobe malfunction_. "So, this piece- this adagio, I guess," Madeline picked up her ipod, searching through finding the song she wanted, she plugged it on the speaker dock, "was the last solo piece I ever had, I was 15 years old. I auditioned with it to get into the School of American Ballet in New York."

"Oh sounds fancy, did you get in?" Mrs. Hudson asked happily.

Madeline looked down and cleared her throat before replying, "Yes, yes I did."

John knew Mrs. Hudson had no idea about Madeline's past and decided it was time to move on and get her back into good spirits, "Go on then Madeline! Make me a fan."

"Ok," She threw him the remote for the dock. "I'm ready." John raised his eyebrows with a smile and pressed play.

Madeline had to accommodate her body as the space in 221B was much smaller than the dance studio in London, but she was use to dancing in small cramped spaced as she danced everywhere in her spare time when no one was around- in the bathroom, her bedroom, the kitchen. She glided with her new pointes that felt so fresh and perfect against her feet. The more she danced with them the better they felt.

By the time she hit her position in second arabesque into a triple pirouette and then another second arabesque en pointe before a pas de chat avec changement- Madeline had lost herself in her performance, even though it was only for 2 audience members and a third who was ignoring her and not watching as far as she knew.

She'd never forget this solo performance for the whole of her life. It was the dance that changed her life- that gave her such opportunity- that had brought such hope in her life only to have it crashing down on her in one fell swoop.

Madeline finished her short solo in position, her right arm en haute, her left leg en pointe and her right leg lifted behind her as far up as it could go. The music stopped and she dropped her pose gently, taking a curtsy as John and Mrs. Hudson clapped and wooed for her loudly.

Madeline blushed a deep crimson shade; entirely embarrassed- she hadn't danced in front of an audience of any size in 10 years, and John and Mrs. Hudson were being an exceptionally fantastic audience. They made her feel like a billion dollars and the best dancer in the world- both of which she would never be in the possession of such items and titles. Madeline knew she was destined for a small life without her dreams… but it was nice to play for a while.

Madeline stole a quick glance to where Sherlock was sitting- well, _had_ sat. It seemed he had left the kitchen sometime during or after her dance. Though in the beginning he made her nervous to perform, by the end she realized she'd wished he'd watched. She didn't know why she wanted him to watch her dance...

_Stop being an idiot, Madeline. _She scolded herself, certain he barely had any interest in listening to her let alone watching her en pointe.

Madeline felt her heart drop slightly, but continued to bow dramatically with humour to John and Mrs. Hudson's praise. "So Mister John Watson, are you a fan of the ballet yet?"

"Absolutely not, but I like _you_ doing ballet." He said smiling at her, Madeline laughed at his reply. Mrs. Hudson gave Madeline a quick hug before heading downstairs, still mumbling about her younger days.

"John!" Sherlock's voice boomed from his bedroom breaking the happy mood.

Madeline and John looked at each other worriedly before heading down the hall.

"We have a visitor." Sherlock said standing in his doorway.

"What, in your room?" John said before walking in and catching sight of what was on the bed. "oohh."

Madeline furrowed her eyebrows from the hallway and decidedly walked into the consulting detective's room only to be met with utter disappointment.

There was a woman sleeping in Sherlock Holmes' bed.

Madeline felt suddenly sick.

It became clear to Madeline who this woman was- _The woman._; although they'd never met- Madeline was certain this was Irene Adler.

Madeline swallowed her suddenly dry throat and walked out of the room down the hallway with John following behind her. She slipped off her shoes and stuffed them back in the box.

"Uhm…" Began John hesitantly, "You know she's just been-"

"Tell your friend I'll go on that date tonight." Madeline said decidedly looking at John who had his eyebrows raised at her.

"Oh- uhm, okay… great!" He said nodding his head, "Really good, yeah I'll let him know."

"Great!" Madeline said grabbing her makeup bag, heading towards the bathroom, "I'll be ready by 7."

Madeline slammed the bathroom door behind her; her happy mood from earlier suddenly shattered by the woman in Sherlock's bed. Madeline knew it was time to move on- and maybe this doctor was the right man to move on with.

* * *

**This was a bit of a longer chapter! Yay!**

**Don't forget to type in that little box right… down… there. **

**:D **


	13. A Long Eventful Night

**A great BIG thank you to TheGirlWhoImagined and 57Pop for commenting on the last chapter! **

**It's getting harder and harder to write these chapters with so much going on and these comments making it so much easier and quicker to write!**

**This is a bit of a long chapter, it is about 18 pages so, enjoy!**

* * *

Madeline's hand faltered slightly as she applied her red lipstick; tonight she was going to look good- no, _great_ for this friend of John's.

She looked at her reflection in the mirror. Madeline straightened her hair for the first time since being in London and it now reached her elbows- most of the time it felt pointless since it always seemed to rain outside- but tonight she resolved herself to put in as much effort as she could.

The Nutcracker ballet performance by the London Company was a formal event; she was lucky she had packed a long floor-length dress with a slit that reached up to her mid-thigh. _The only nice thing I have._ She thought to herself. It had been a gift from Michael when he'd gotten sober- a gift to say that he appreciated her giving up so much of her life for him.

Madeline sighed taking one last glance in the mirror, "this is the best I can get it." She mumbled to herself before walking out.

"I'll say." A female voice stated mischievously. Madeline looked up and found herself face to face with Irene Adler- and (much to Madeline's displeasure) still wearing nothing but Sherlock's blue robe.

Madeline had to contain herself, the woman was intimidating and was staring at Madeline like she was her meal for the night- Madeline knew all about Irene Adler and her kinks. Not that Madeline saw herself as a prude- but in no way could she relate to a woman like _The_ Woman. _I can't believe I'd actually prefer Molly Hooper to be drooling over Sherlock right now,_ She concluded, _Anyone but Irene._

"Can I help you with something?" Madeline said confidently. She knew Irene Adler was like a lion, the moment she saw weakness in her prey she'd attack- Madeline had to keep a guard of confidence up.

"Oh I do hope you would." She replied with a smile on her face, "So you're _the_ Madeline Smith- or should I say Madeline Smelting-"

"Is there a point to this?" Madeline replied heatedly, hearing her original last name come out of the woman's mouth made her blood boil- she had no right to go digging. "While I love watching you try to impress me by your cheap way of getting information that really is none of your business, I do have a date to get to. So, if you'll excuse me."

Madeline brushed past Irene to go downstairs but stopped at the sound of her last comment, "I can see why he's changed." A voice in the back of Madeline's head told her to keep walking, that there was nothing this woman could say that would mean anything of importance. And yet- Madeline turned around.

"Excuse me?"

"You." Irene replied simply, "I've tried for months to get the attention of Sherlock Holmes. In the beginning it was easy watching my little comments get to him- make him nervous and slightly uncomfortable. But as time's gone on it seems my words have been… wasted on him. He still doesn't reply to them- but not for the same reason he did in the beginning. At first it seemed he didn't know what to say- now it seems he has nothing _to_ say… imagine that."

"So, what's your point?"

"My point is, Ms. Smelting-"

"It's _Smith_, Miss Adler."

"The point is that Sherlock Holmes is closer to you than you think- or even _realize_."

Madeline paused for a moment before shaking her head, "No, no, absolutely not- he ignores me all day almost everyday. He treats me like… a lamp, or the coffee table."

Irene smiled for a moment at the younger woman, "And tell me, is it in his nature to ignore people? Or is it in his nature to sink his teeth into them, letting them know every bit about what he knows about them so he can walk away confident in what they mean to him, which 99% of the time, is nothing."

Madeline felt her heart quicken, "I know he can't read you-"

"_Couldn't_ read me… nudity is a hell of a trick, isn't it?"

"And yet he always comes running back to you." Madeline said, she couldn't help the bitterness in her tone, "When you "died" he moped like a sad child around this apartment. And you're standing there playing mind games with me just to mess with me, I'm not so gullible to believe anything you tell me about Sherlock Holmes having a deeper relationship with me than what I see." Madeline stated heatedly with confidence, she wouldn't give in to this woman's games. Irene was messing with Madeline, telling her what she wanted to hear to make her vulnerable and simple to control- Madeline wouldn't buy it. "…I know Sherlock Holmes- I live with him, and the only thing crazier than believing he's attached to me is believing he's attached to…"

"Me?" Irene asked, a glint in her eye.

Madeline sighed and closed her eyes, she replied, "No, he is attached to you in a weird way, even if only a little, I'm certain of that."

"And you? No attachment to you, you say? He brought you here, didn't he? Found you _so _interesting he had to fly you to England with him. It's clear that there's something special, something important about you, Miss Madeline Smith, that can't be revealed yet for one reason or another…"

"So?"

"So he flew to the states to see you and bring you back here- you weren't a _lamp_ to him when he went out there to go get you…"

Madeline snorted in a sarcastic manner, "Oh, great, so _I _am what averted him to treating me like a piece of furniture-"

"_Exactly_." Irene whispered.

Madeline's eyebrows furrowed. She didn't know what to say at this point. She didn't know whether to believe Irene's… theory. Out of all the people in Sherlock Holmes' world, Madeline knew for a fact that she was given the least attention, spoken to the least, spent the least amount of time with, and according to Irene- that _said something _about her place in Sherlock Holmes' life. To Madeline that said exactly what it seemed like- she was invisible to him, completely devoid of any interest she may have had to him before he'd met her. In fact, she wouldn't be surprised if he accidentally sat on her one day mistaking her for a chair. But according to Irene…

"No," Madeline shook her head at the theory, "I'm not going to let you mess with me. I don't believe you."

The woman shrugged nonchalantly folding her arms across her chest, "suit yourself, it just opens up my chances to de-virginize the great Sherlock Holmes even more."

"He's not a virgin." Madeline said incredulously, _the man's in his 30's for Gods sake!_

Irene gave Madeline one last smile, "you don't know Sherlock Holmes as well as you think you do," Her tone changed to challenge, "and know this Ms. Smelting- Ms. Smith- whatever, I won't think twice about ripping away your influence on him and making it all my own."

Madeline sighed sadly, this was no competition, as far as Madeline saw it- she wasn't even in the running. Irene Adler was messing with her, and although Madeline didn't know why- she didn't care, because she was not up for playing her games. Madeline just wanted to be happy… for once. "He's not mine to have, or influence… he doesn't belong to me." Madeline was about to turn away before adding, "Just one last thing- don't try to mess with me anymore, Miss Adler, I don't know what Sherlock allows you to do to him and I don't care- but I'm no one's toy."

Madeline forced the conversation to end as she walked down the stairs into the empty living room. She hoped greatly that it didn't mean Sherlock was in his room- she'd left her perfume in there and needed it. Irene's words nagged Madeline greatly- she _hated_ how high Irene's theory had brought up Madeline's hopes towards Sherlock. Madeline didn't know why the woman would mess with her so, _because she's deranged and bored- that's reason enough._ Madeline concluded.

She sighed as she walked into Sherlock's bedroom, relieved at finding it empty. She walked to her drawers and picked up her perfume spraying it all over. She'd never bought perfume before- this particular one was John's gift to her on Christmas and she had to admit- that man knew what a woman should smell like. Jack, her date, would be arriving any minute and she prayed that wherever in 221B Sherlock Holmes was, that he would stay there; the last thing she needed was to come face to with the man she'd just spent the last 20 minutes debating, hating and being haunted by.

"I have something for you."

The deep rich voice was unmistakable- it was him. She knew it was him that was behind her. Madeline's heart pounded in her chest harder than it ever had before. She closed her eyes and breathed through her mouth, Irene's words still nagging her- _Sherlock Holmes is closer to you than you think- or even realize."_

_No no no no don't listen to her-_ Madeline reasoned with herself opening her eyes, _I am not exceptional to Sherlock Holmes. She's just messing with you. I am a lamp… just a lamp and that means I'm not special. It means what it is- I know what I am- I'm a means to an end for him. Stop getting lost in fantasy land you silly girl!_

Finally Madeline turned around with an attempt of confidence- but once her eyes fell upon him, whatever confidence that might have been there was lost. Sherlock Holmes stood with his black pants and a purple button up shirt tucked into it, his small waist prominent against his broad shoulders. He was staring at her intensely, observing her in a way she'd never seen before. It felt like rocks were being dropped one by one into the pit of her stomach as they stared at each other. His eyebrows were downturned creating lines on the bridge of his nose, but his eyes were soft as his lips were parted in thought. Sherlock hadn't spoken for at least 20 seconds which was, to say the least, unusual for him. "Sherlock?" She said softly. She began to fidget with her hands, self conscious under his heavy gaze.

"You look…" Sherlock was trying to find the volume in his voice as he concluded, "…different."

"Oh." Madeline said neutrally, "Thank you? …I am going on that date tonight-"

"Yes, I know. John's quite confident in his matchmaking skills."

"Well…" Madeline said awkwardly, "we'll see if he's right, I guess." Silence fell between them, each second felt like a minute and each second that passed she wished Sherlock would say something but he didn't. "His name is Jack, by the way, and in case you missed it, he's taking me to the balle-"

"That dress is clearly a gift, not just any gift, but an expensive gift." Sherlock said bluntly interrupting her, his voice and demeanor turned back to his usual take-charge self of confidence. "It's one of the nicer things you own, therefore indicating that you wish to make a lasting impression on this _Jack_ character. Such an indication is interesting because your time remaining in England is undecided and your possible ties with a possible second-time fiancée, Danny, in case you forgot, are still waiting idle for your decision. But you're here, and you see Danny as not being the case and topic for anything, which can only mean that you going out on a date with this Doctor _Jack_ is to move on. As to move on from what- I'm not sure. But you are desperate to move on from whatever it is…" Sherlock paused for a moment placing his hands together against his lips, "The reactions you gave to John earlier today spoke miles- the little twitches in your mouth, the slight upturns at the sides of your eyes when you hear something displeasing- you hate set-ups, you hate dates in any sort of sense- and you hate the Nutcracker… yet you're still going." Sherlock took another pause, he tilted his head to the side as he watched Madeline. Her cheeks burned and she looked away from him, her hair coming down in front of her face like a guard. "Why would you still go?" He asked softly.

Usually when Sherlock had a question at the end of a deduction- it was a question that was meant for himself, but this time, with his tone, it was clear that last question was directed at Madeline to answer. Her heart began to race again, he was always taking liberties by not answering some of her questions- she felt that in this particular moment she had gained the same privilege. She could never tell him what she was running away from- or rather, _who _she was running away from. So she cleared her throat, looked up at him hesitantly, and spoke, "You said you had something for me?"

Sherlock took a moment or two before slowly walking towards her stopping less than a foot away from her, he reached into his pocket and pulled out an envelope. Madeline had to force herself to keep her eyes open as she got a whiff of his wonderful smell. "I hacked into Lestrade's computer, I got access to your parents confidential file and got you this." Madeline gave him a look to ask him 'why,' as if reading her thoughts he said, "Bored. Sometimes pick-pocketing him isn't enough. Committing a federal offense is much more fun."

Madeline hesitantly took the envelope from his hands, careful not to touch his long fingers, "You probably didn't have to hack into it, Lestrade would have just done it for you if you'd have asked him."

Sherlock looked Madeline straight in the eyes with a wicked glint in them, his eyebrows lightly furrowed and a slanted smile adorned his face, "Oh, but where's the fun in that!"

Madeline couldn't hold back her smile, his wicked side always got her a bit exhilarated; Sherlock Holmes was the intellectual badass, and she couldn't deny how intoxicating that atmosphere was. John could certainly verify that, as well.

She opened the envelope and looked inside; as she took out its content the envelope slipped out of her hands; her breath caught in her throat. Sherlock didn't need to tell her who the couple in the picture was- she already knew. "These are… my parents." She stated breathlessly.

Sherlock cleared his momentarily looking away as Madeline's eyes glossed over, he didn't do well with emotion. "Good deduction." He mumbled slightly sarcastically, but mostly just out of not knowing what to do right then. He hadn't figured out how actually _giving_ her the picture would go- Sherlock hadn't figured out that far ahead.

Observing the picture, it was clear that Madeline now understood who she'd come from- this man and this woman. Her heart swelled as she observed it- observed them. So young and happy. The two people that loved her and who she'd never meet… The picture was in black and white. The man stood up tall in his suit and hat on his head, his arm around his wife's shoulders. Her hair was long, just like Madeline's. She had her dad's smile and her mom's eyes…

"Sherlock, I…" She said breathlessly, swallowing back her tears successfully. She looked up at him, he was staring past her shoulder at the wall behind her, avoiding eye contact. "I don't know what to say. I…thank you. Thank you…" Madeline felt the incredible act of kindness he'd just done for her rise within her chest, lifting her up to stand on her tippy toes, place her arms around his shoulders, bury her face in his warm neck and squeeze him tightly, whispering "thank you, thank you, thank you…" over and over and over again.

Sherlock initially didn't move, finding he didn't know what to do with his arms, but he eventually took to resting his hands on her lower back. Her felt her warm breath against his neck as she repeated her sentiments and a shudder ran up his spine, he hadn't been this close to anyone in as long as he could remember. He could smell her hair, her perfume, the bare skin of her back against his palms that he could feel from the low cut of her dress, she squeezed him to her unconsciously. Sherlock realized she was being affectionate and… so was he. His back immediately straightened in discipline as he brought himself back to reality, snapping open his eyes and releasing a harsh breath. _What am I doing?_

Madeline began to pull away from the hug, feeling that he was no longer comfortable. He'd just changed like night and day. But she couldn't help herself, as her face began to move away from his she saw his perfect cheekbone directly in front of her, just for a second, and before she was too far away, Madeline placed her soft lips right on its sharp curve. She heard a light surprised gasp emerge from his chest; his skin felt like heaven beneath her lips and as she opened her eyes she found herself staring into his icy blue/green pools that looked at her with anxious confusion as she pulled away.

"What are you doing?" He demanded taken aback by her action, his voice was soft yet husky. There was a tone in his voice that almost sounded… worried. This was the second kiss she'd placed on his cheek, and if anything, he only grew more and more confused.

"I'm thanking you." Madeline whispered, her heart swelled as she watched her affection effect him. His eyes grew strangely soft as he looked at her, they observed every inch of her face as though he was seeing her for the first time. And it was in this moment that Madeline could no longer deny that she was headed for trouble. _Oh no, no, no no… I don't like him I don't like him like that. I can't. no, it's not him. He's not anything- oh god he's intoxicating._

Sherlock took an unconscious step towards Madeline, their faces only inches away. His body had taken control of him, he hadn't the foggiest what he was doing- all he knew was what his body told him… and all he could hear was Madeline's name. It drove him mad. His deductive tendencies tried to take over- but couldn't. All he could smell was her, all he could hear was her breath, and all he could see were her brown eyes and lips before him. Sherlock Holmes found his mind interested an entirely new interest with no deductions to save his life… _how the hell did I let this happen? _He scolded himself.

Madeline could feel his breath on her cheek, he continued to look her in the eyes, neither knowing what to do, neither wanting to make a move. _Keep yourself together Madeline, remember, he's awful and rude and arrogant and he is the last man on earth I would ever want to have a conversation with or be alone with or hug… or kiss._ Her eyes fell to his lips suddenly at the thought of it, unable to help herself from staring at his perfect full lips with that sweet cupids bow, and that _juicy_ bottom lip that was begging to be bit, tugged on and licked- _Oh god, I want to kiss him. What is wrong with me... I want those lips… oh god I want that mouth open and I want it on me. _

Her heart beat so loud that she could feel it vibrating her whole body. Madeline lifted a shaky hand and placed her fingers on his cheek as he continued to stare relentlessly at her, still trying to understand this raw electricity between them. In a flash his hand wrapped around her wrist, stopping her stroking of his cheek. Madeline was certain that he was going to force her away from him, but was beyond ecstatic to find he used her wrist to push her closer to him wrapping his arm all the way around her small waist. She could feel the heat of his chest radiate off him like a contagious energy that made her stomach tingle with anticipation. _Oh please don't let this be another dream, please, let this be real- let him be real…_

"Madeline…" Sherlock's eyebrows furrowed in confusion as he found his head beginning to dip down towards her. His body seemed to be moving on autopilot. There was something he needed to know, to find out, to experiment and study relentlessly until he was satisfied, and this time it wasn't a bag of thumbs… it was Madeline's lips.

"Sherlock." His name came out of her mouth in a breathy whisper as she leaned up, she could already taste his sweet breath on her lips, just a touch away from each other.

"Madeline?…" He asked softly as she leaned in.

"…please."

Madeline closed her eyes, this was it, she could feel his breath against her lips- he was getting closer… This was happening and she could no longer deny it- no matter how much Madeline insisted, no matter how much she refused to believe it, no matter how often she was upset with Sherlock Holmes- she didn't know until now that she was quite certain that she was in-

"Madeline! Are you ready? He's here!" John's voice bellowed.

In a flash, Madeline's eyes flew open and Sherlock Holmes was already on the other side of the door, far away from her. His back was turned to her and his head was bowed down, his fingers running across his lips as he paced. Madeline couldn't see his face- but she knew it was not a happy one. Reality struck her within those two moments- she and Sherlock Holmes had almost kissed and she… wanted it. More than wanted it, she-

"Madeline?" This time John knocked on the bedroom door. Ever the gentleman, she knew he wouldn't open it without her consent.

"Yes, John, I'm almost ready! Just… give me a minute." Madeline said breathlessly. She placed her hand on the necklace around her neck, the one her parents gave her and her memory returned to the picture that sat in her hand, the one Sherlock had just given her. She looked down at it before looking up to find Sherlock sitting on his bed with his back still to her, hunched over.

Madeline's self esteem fell and shattered to the ground. There she stood in her best dress, with her best hair, her best makeup- the best she would ever look and there sat Sherlock Holmes- unhappy that he'd almost kissed her. "…I'm sorry, Sherlock." Madeline said softly, her voice shaking. His back straightened but still didn't turn around to see her. She willed the tears not to fall out of her eyes. She sucked in a deep breath and stood up tall, blinking them away successfully. "I'm sorry I almost burdened you from having such an experience with me. I won't push you to get close to doing such a thing again."

This time, Sherlock's neck snapped around and he stared right at her. His eyes were wide and his eyebrows were downturned, he blinked and stared at her as though he hadn't understood why that had just come out of her mouth. Madeline felt her throat begin to close up, she needed air, she needed something- she needed to not be alone in a room with Sherlock Holmes.

Madeline opened the door letting John in without a second thought.

"Well," He began, "It's about time-"

Sherlock stood up catching John's attention who suddenly looked worried at finding his two friends alone in a bedroom. "John." Sherlock stated brushing off the sleeves of his shirt.

"Am I… missing something here?" John asked curiously looking between the both of them, "because your date, Doctor Jack, is waiting downstairs, Madeline."

"No, you're not missing anything-" Madeline began reassuring John, but was cut off by Sherlock who walked up directly to John.

"He better not have touched anything." Sherlock complained before walking out of his room casually.

Silence stood between Madeline and John; he looked at her worriedly and curiously and she hated being under someone else's analyzing gaze. "So… nothing happened? Right?"

Madeline let out an irritated breath, "It's Sherlock Holmes- what do you think happened?"

"Then why were you in here alone with him? I mean, granted it is his bedroom- but that's sort of the point here-"

"He gave me this, that's all." Madeline showed him the picture, he looked at her shocked.

"He gave you a picture of your parents?" He asked incredulously.

"Yes, I know, it was a weird move coming from his part. But don't worry, John, I'm realistic. I know who Sherlock Holmes is, I know what he's capable of and more importantly- what he's incapable of. …thank you for looking out for me and thank you for setting me up with Jack. …if I can be honest with you for a second- I have no idea what's going on between Sherlock and I."

"Well," John began softly rubbing her arm, "He's Sherlock Holmes as you said- no one really knows where they stand with him. He insults me constantly and yet he and I are friends, best friends."

"So what you're telling me is that I could mean the world to him or mean absolutely nothing to him? And in his case the latter is _always _more likely."

"Well, you know that. I don't know what to tell you Madeline… but I am happy to hear that you're not fooled like that poor Molly Hooper is." he said relieved. "I tell you she is a lovely girl, but hopelessly in love with a man that…Even with Irene Adler who's commandeered the bloody loo for the past hour- there's something there but I doubt it's love. You know, doesn't love like that. He doesn't feel like that, our Sherlock."

Madeline hid it well- the disappointment in her gut. So what had she and Sherlock been doing jus then? _Maybe I was just… oh my God, was I an experiment? That's why he sounded and looked so freaking confused! _"Is it true then? Is he a… virgin? Has he ever dated anyone?"

John let out a strange sigh, "I was wondering the same thing a couple of days ago, brought it up to Mrs. Hudson who's known him far longer than I have. I don't know about Sherlock's past- at least not _that_ particular past. But you know, who know's what he's done or if he's done _anything at all._"

Madeline closed her eyes tightly, _it was just an experiment. Stupid! Stupid! Stupid! You idiot. Over and over you fall for everything, you naive girl… Molly Hooper, indeed. _

"Madeline? …Madeline?" John's inquiry broke her out of her self-hate. Madeline gave him the best 'don't worry about me I'm absolutely fine' smile that she had- and she had plenty of those.

"I'm ready! Don't want to keep my date waiting any longer now do I?"

* * *

Madeline sat in the back of the cab as far away from Doctor Jack as she could. Not that she didn't like him, her mind was just occupied. Jack was everything John said he was- tall, dark, and handsome. He had perfect olive skin- _much nicer than Sherlock's pale skin_ Madeline thought decidedly, he had dark brown chocolate eyes _much more romantic than Sherlock's ever changing ice cold eyes_, and he had dark brown hair… _just like Sherlock's_ she found herself thinking with a mental sigh, forgetting that she was attempting to tear him down against Jack- not admire his comparisons. "Dammit, Madeline!" She shouted suddenly breaking the silence, scolding herself.

Madeline slapped her hand over her mouth, the cab driver looked at her in his rearview mirror and Jack threw her a strange glance. "Is everything ok? You seem a little… distant." He smiled at her. _Oh fuck- even his teeth are perfect! Is he carved out of freaking marble?_ "I mean, I know we just met like, 10 minutes ago but I'm a little worried your mind is… somewhere else. If you want we can do this another time?-"

"No!" Madeline demanded suddenly, "no no, I want to do this tonight. Sorry it's just… I'm still adjusting to some things."

"Yeah, I bet, that Sherlock Holmes you and John are living with is a pain in the ass." Jack stated with distain, Madeline bit her lip and looked down, _Oh great, the one guy I'm trying to forget my freaking date brings up._ "Shakes my hand and first thing he does is "deduce" my whole like by my pants and necktie." Jack sounded clearly irritated- not out of place for someone talking about Sherlock Holmes, but Madeline felt herself blush as she looked down, a little smile creeping on her face. _That is so him._ "I've never met a more displeasingly unpleasant man."

_Ding ding!_

Madeline's phone vibrated with a text, "Oh, I'm sorry, do you mind?"

"Oh no, absolutely not. Don't worry I keep mine on just in case one of my patients has an emergency."

"Oh! …right." Madeline didn't know how to reply, was an unemployed girl living with a detective and an army doctor who was dating a heart surgeon- her biggest worry of the night was whether the restaurant was going to have big portions of not because she forgot to eat her pre-meal-sandwich before going out to dinner- and Jack was an important person, to say the least. Madeline suddenly felt a little bit smaller than usual.

_He's just started complaining about me, hasn't he? –SH_

"Who is it?" Jack asked. Madeline didn't know how to reply. Sherlock never texted her unless it was to remind her to get milk.

"Oh, uhm, it's my…" She began not knowing how to answer- but certainly knew she shouldn't say it was Sherlock.

_Tell him it's your brother. –SH_

"brother." She said quickly, "It's my brother, Michael, in Colorado, sorry, I'll try and end this so we can get back-"

"Oh no, don't worry, I know how important family is. I have two sisters that I'm always so protective of." He said fondly, _aww, oh my gosh he is perfect… shit!_ "So, take your time. We have all of dinner and the show tonight to get to know each other."

"Thank you Jack for being so understanding." Madeline said smiling before returning to her phone.

_What do you want? I'm kind of in the middle of something. –M_

_No you're not. With the traffic right now it will take you 20 more minutes to get to the restaurant. –SH_

_Yeah, so Jack and I are trying to have a conversation and try to get to know each other, and that still doesn't answer my question, what do you want? –M_

Madeline didn't receive a reply for 30 seconds, she sighed irritated. He started this.

_What do you want, Sherlock? Shouldn't you be with Irene now since you figured out her little puzzle? John's going out tonight so you should get some quality time together. –M_

_My mind is occupied by another thought… -SH_

Madeline bit her lip, her heart began racing. _Oh god, does he mean me? What does he mean? WHAT DO YOU MEAN ANSWER DAMMIT-_

_Ding ding! _

_I can't get the 007 and Bond connection between the plane and Mycroft out of my head. I think I get it- Coventry, possibly, but that doesn't make any sense. Thoughts? –SH _

Madeline rolled her eyes at her phone, sneaking a little apologetic smile to Jack who happily smiled back at her.

_Are you seriously asking me if I figured out your puzzle? –M_

_Yes. –SH_

_In what world would I understand a puzzle that you didn't get first? –M_

_Sometimes it's nice to get other people's opinions on things. -SH_

_._

_._

_._

_…Are you high? –M _

_No. I haven't done any sort of drug in years. Why would you ask? –SH_

_Because you never want to hear anyone's opinion but your own. –M_

_Well I can't help it that I'm always right. –SH_

_Aaaand he's back. And no, you're not always right. -M_

_Well, little details here and there sometimes are incorrect, but other than that- yes. –SH_

_Is there a point to this conversation? You're distracting me from my date. When did I suddenly become so interesting? –M _

As Madeline pressed send far too quickly she scolded herself momentarily forgetting the almost kiss in his bedroom that had just nearly happened less than an hour ago, she was basically asking him to mention it. "God Dammit!" She shouted out loud on accident again. Once more she slapped her hand over her mouth and looked worriedly at Jack who was, surprisingly, laughing.

"John had mentioned you were a little off."

"Oh, yeah, sorry." Madeline replied worried. "It's my brother he's having… problems. He's just bothering me with them a little bit. It's really bad timing on his end-"

"No, really, it's ok, I do understand. Family is most important." Jack smiled at her again, "and you don't seem like the type of girl who intentionally try's to sabotage dates." Madeline laughed with him nervously at his joke, "but then maybe I won't feel so bad for… taking a call?" He held up his phone, "one of my patients is pregnant and I think she's a little worried about some cramping, do you mind?"

"Oh god no of course not!" Madeline exclaimed as her phone dinged with another text. …Jack was helping a pregnant woman and she was debating useless topics with underlying sexual currents (from her end at least) with Sherlock… yep, she felt she was a touch different than Jack.

_You don't even like dates. –SH_

_Oh really? Is that so? How else would you get to know a person then, hm? –M_

_You tell me. –SH_

_Uhm… what? –M _

_You're the one who dislikes dates yet you managed to get engaged. How else other than a date would one get to know someone intimately? –SH_

_Well, you should know just the same, you have John. –M _

_Funny he's not here yet I can still hear him denying it. –SH_

Madeline had to slap her hand over her mouth to keep from laughing. She had to keep herself on topic to get rid of him, _gosh he's such a freaking beast bothering me right now on purpose even after how he made me feel earlier- making me make a fool out of myself. _She thought upset.

_Are you looking for pointers with Irene? Is that why you're asking me this? –M _

_Pardon? –SH_

_Are you asking me how to get intimate with her? –M _

_No. If I wanted to know that I'd just ask John. Anyways, Irene's an easy woman to become intimate with. –SH_

_So then what's the point of you asking me? –M_

__A moment or two passed before Sherlock replied, changing the topic.

_Your date is passive aggressive and had a date with another woman last night. –SH_

_So? –M_

_And yet you don't mind he's seeing other women? Interesting. –SH_

_Well, this is our first date, I don't even know if I like him yet. –M_

_He's generically attractive, holds a position as a doctor, and was raised by women- the ratio of a female or gay male not finding him attractive is very slim. –SH_

_Great, thank you for the analysis on my inevitable attraction to him. Now, if you don't mind I'd like to get back to it. –M _

Madeline closed put her phone on vibrate and threw it in her purse, she looked up at Michael and smiled. "All good?" He asked hanging up his phone.

"Yeah, it's all good. You?"

"Yep. Oh look we're here! Finally, took long enough."

"You don't say."

Madeline was led out of the cab into an extremely fancy restaurant with Jack on her arm. As they walked through the tables she could feel all eyes on her and Jack but Madeline barely noticed as she was distracted by the incessant phone buzzing in her purse against her thigh.

* * *

Madeline marched her way back in to 221B after her date. The night had been lovely and perfect… except for the constant vibrating in her purse. Madeline hadn't checked her phone again knowing that Sherlock would just suck her in and distract her with another pointless conversation. Jack had insisted it was ok to talk to her 'brother' some more, but she told Jack that her 'brother' was just being a whiny little bitch who was vying for undeserved attention- to which Jack gave her a funny look and turned back awkwardly to his dinner.

In the cab on the way home from the (_awful_) Nutcracker. Madeline grew worried because the texts from Sherlock had stopped for a good half hour. She knew she was being ridiculous- upset that he was texting her so much and now upset that he'd stopped. "unbelievable!" Madeline had said outloud, once more accidentally vocalizing her own thoughts.

"Did you like it?" Jack asked her, "I thought it was unbelievable too, I mean there is something _so _magical about the Nutcracker."

Madeline looked at him like a madwoman, staring at him with disbelief. This man was… nice. And generous, and kind and handsome and she'd spent most of the night thinking about Sherlock _bloody _Holmes! _The freaking beast! _And that kiss- well, almost kiss with him, during which she'd felt… so much. _How the hell did that happen?_

Before she knew it Madeline had thrown herself at Jack, locking her lips on his. He was surprised at first but quickly wrapped his arms around her as they made out in the back of the taxi like savages.

Madeline had searched and searched in his mouth for something- for anything, really. She wanted to feel something, to get excited, to feel exhilarated like she had earlier, but with this perfect man Jack she felt… nothing. "Dammit!" She exclaimed pulling away from him as the cab pulled up to 221B.

"Don't worry," Jack chuckled, "we'll have more time to get to know each other say next week?"

So there Madeline stood in the living room of 221B after having just accepted to have another date with Jack, ready to give Sherlock a piece of her mind regardless if Irene Adler was still there or not. But Madeline was surprised to see the flat empty. "Hello?"

No answer. Sherlock's blue robe was laid across his chair and she felt unease in her stomach as she knew the last person to wear it wasn't Sherlock- it was Irene.

Madeline decided to take a chance, her only chance probably since he was out of the house- and sit in Sherlock's chair. She still hadn't forgotten how much he'd hurt her- not even acknowledging her after the almost-kiss, making her feel like an unattractive diseased beast. _Hah, beast._ She threw his robe off of the chair onto the floor where the bullet was still lodged. She sat and sighed, making herself comfortable. Her back eased into his chair like a hand to a glove.

She pulled out her phone and found she had 15 unread text messages, 14 of which were from Sherlock.

_Hey Maddie, it's Danny. I haven't heard from you in two months, you haven't been answering my texts, call me? -Danny_

Madeline quickly deleted his message, shocked to see it was from him, the guilt already getting to her. She quickly went on and continued to read the rest of her messages most of which she was surprised at being not surprised to see that they were from Sherlock

_Get back to what? I can't possibly see what's so important. –SH_

_Do you know about Coventry? I think it might be the only answer. –SH_

_Where did you put last night's left over Chinese food? Or did you eat it all again? –SH_

_Never mind, found the empty cases in the trashcan. You said too much soy sauce gives you a headache and yet you still elected to eat it all… shocking. –SH_

_Also, you forgot to eat your pre-meal-sandwich. Since you left it I'm going to eat it for you. –SH_

_Who puts peanut butter, Jelly and bacon in a sandwich? You may have been born in Britain but that is very American of you. That is not a compliment, by the way. Also, the restaurant that buffoon doctor is taking you to doesn't serve large portions, have fun with that. –SH_

_I finished your sandwich. -SH_

_The nutcracker is a waist of time to those beyond the age of 8 and you know that. –SH_

_I found your "secret" stash of candy by the way. And by the looks of it so has John- all of your kit-kats are gone. -SH_

_I was looking through your bag out of boredom- Beethoven is your favorite? How typical. -SH_

_Also, that cardigan of yours that I tell you is far too large for your body size ended up in the fireplace- I don't know how that happened. -SH_

_I see you're still using your old ballet shoes wanting to keep the ones I got you in good shape? Stop being an idiot and use the new ones. -SH_

_I thought John was here? Where did he go? Why didn't you tell me he left? I had to hear it from Irene just now. Also, how do you feel about painting a new picture, that one of John sitting by the fireplace that we have hanging above the fireplace seems redundant. I suggest you paint a picture of some cupcakes and we send it to Mycroft to see how quickly his weight fluctuates afterwards. -SH_

_Your old ballet shoes ended up in the fireplace. I don't know how that happened. –SH _

Madeline sat in his chair reading through her texts from him with a light smile on her face, giggling at all of his different comments. She read through them over and over, each time finding something new. The shoulder of her dress dropped, her hair a mess, and her red lipstick smeared all over her cheeks from the unsatisfying make-out session. Before she knew it she was curled up, sound asleep with her phone clutched in her hand and his pillow wrapped in her arms against her cheek.

* * *

"So that's it then? She's just going to… die?" John asked as he and Sherlock walked up the steps to 221B.

"I'm sure someone will get a hold of her quite soon and get their revenge."

"And that's… alright with you?" John asked hesitantly, Sherlock looked back at him curiously before they stepped into the living room.

"She's working with Moriarty, isn't she?"

"Yeah but I just thought…" John began awkwardly, Sherlock raised his eyebrows in question.

"Thought what?"

"That you and her had a… thing."

Sherlock was about to answer but stopped in his tracks as he and John came face to face with a sleeping Madeline in Sherlock's chair. Not necessarily the most attractive sight, her hair was a mess, her lipstick smeared everywhere and her mouth was agape as she clutched to Sherlock's pillow leaving a lovely trail of drool across it. Both Sherlock and John quickly deduced her appearance was due to a make-out session with her date.

"Looks like she had a good night." John said with a smile on his face.

"So it would seem." Sherlock replied neutrally between his teeth.

"Well, I'm off to bed. Are you sure you're going to be ok, Sherlock?"

"I'll be _fine_ John."

"Alright, sorry for caring. Also," He pointed to Sherlock's pillow that was now covered in Madeline's drool, "I'll take that to the drycleaners tomorrow. Goodnight." John headed upstairs to his bedroom.

"Goodnight John." Sherlock said standing in place. He stared at Madeline's sleeping disheveled face; he snorted displeasingly and left to his room. _Seems like she had fun with him in the cab on the way back. _

Just as Sherlock was about to close the door to his room, he heard a thump from the living room. Rolling his eyes and sighing irritated, Sherlock turned back to the living room and saw what had made the thump.

Madeline's arm was hanging over the side of the chair, her cell phone lighting up on the floor. Sherlock picked it up curiously and saw what she had been looking at before falling asleep. He felt his stomach clench, Sherlock bit his bottom lip and he placed her phone on the coffee table with a shaky hand.

Sherlock headed back to his room quickly not knowing how to deal with it all- but not before grabbing his blue robe off the floor and draping it over her sleeping form.

* * *

Shuffling, she could hear shuffling. Usually Madeline was a sound sleeper but the close proximity to whoever was making the noises in the middle of her sleep was distracting. Madeline moaned as she stretched her arms over her head, rubbing her eyes open. "Hello?"

"Right here." Said a female voice. Madeline new that voice. Immediately she was awake and alarmed as she turned her head to see none other than Irene Adler with a bag in her hand and all of her makeup smeared off. She was wearing a baggy sweatshirt and pants. She looked… different, and human.

"What… what are you doing here?" Madeline asked worriedly. "Where did you all go?"

"Don't worry, your knight in shining armour is back."

"My what?" Madeline asked confused until it hit her, "Oh gosh, not this _crap _again-"

"Look I'm not here to argue with you," Irene said emotionally, "it's over."

Madeline was taken aback by the woman's display of emotions- she was always so ice cold. "What is over?"

"I am. Me, this, everything. …I won't last 6 months now." She closed her eyes and shook her head whispering. "I suppose it serves me right for falling for such a man after what I did to him. "

"What did you do?"

" I lost." Irene said simply, "I lost and now I have to finish the game, don't I? Except I'm in last place, it seems." Madeline couldn't help it, she _actually_ felt sorry for Irene Adler. _What? No! Clearly she's done something wrong…_

"Who…" Madeline asked hesitantly, wiping her chin from the drool of her sleep, "Who did you fall for?"

Irene threw Madeline one of her signature condescending smiles, "Oh don't play that game with me, gorgeous… you know exactly who; especially because you fell for the same man. –Oh no, don't try to argue with me, we're women- we know these things about each other. And now I'm… out of your way."

Madeline swallowed heavily, "What do you mean out of my way? And where are you headed?"

"I don't know, somewhere remote, somewhere that's least likely that someone will find me- Karachi maybe, I'm not sure. Wherever I end up. And don't play dumb sweetheart, he's all yours now." She smiled sadly, "You've won over me as well. I never had a chance with him after you came along-"

"What? No, no, I haven't won anything or anyone, I'm just-"

"You are just a woman who's fallen in and doesn't know exactly how bad she's fallen because she refuses to believe it… trust me, I know, I made the same mistake. The only difference is how that man feels about you and about me- because I think there's a big different there." Irene walked over towards the window and paused before looking back at Madeline, "I wasn't messing with you- you know, earlier today? …I meant what I said about you and Sherlock Holmes. I just hope it works out better for you than it did for me. That man can be cruel... but then again so can I."

And with that Irene Adler jumped out of the window of 221B leaving behind a strange legacy and a pensive Madeline who's mind was racing far too much to fall back asleep.

* * *

**Phew! Long chapter! Hope you liked! Please do comment if you're reading, it only takes a moment (just type right down there in that empty box) and is like a lovely little pay off after so much work :) **


	14. The Unexpected

**Wow a BIG FAT thank you to those of you that commented! AllyStar99, Lindsay Ruthann, TheGirlWhoImagined, Veronika, Yurixo, "Guest", LifeShutterSpeed and Ringo octopus. So many feels right now, seriously- You guys are awesome. **

**Just as a warning, this chapter is somewhat intense, you'll know what I mean by the end of it. So just remember to breathe while you read. It is more serious than the others, the plot thickens and things are starting to go _really_ wrong _really_ fast. **

* * *

One week later.

Business at 221B, it seemed, was back to usual after the holidays. Sherlock and John were running around having just solved two cases in the past 7 days. John barely had time to spend with Madeline due to their back-to-back cases, but he made sure to text her to keep her updated on their well being as they'd rarely returned to 221B. One of the cases led to an underground drug cartel and the other leading to a notorious London serial killer. _Oh, no big deal._ Madeline thought sarcastically feeling absolutely useless.

Madeline was growing restless. Her days were filled with routine; breakfast with John while Sherlock sat silent reading his newspaper (with the occasional visit from Mycroft or Lestrade), open class at the ballet studio down the street, tea and biscuits with Mrs. Hudson, then painting pictures for the rest of the day. She wanted to know more about her parents- but Sherlock wasn't budging.

Madeline awoke uneasy. It was Saturday and the night before had been her turn to sleep in Sherlock's bed- and she did. But unlike in the fantasy's in her head (that she continuously denied to herself that she had)- he did not join her. Actually, since Sherlock had given her the picture and they'd almost kissed before her first date with Jack a week ago- they hadn't even spoken.

In fact, Sherlock wasn't giving her much of anything anymore. It was as though that night had never happened. He hadn't texted her again. Hadn't spoken to her. Hadn't even glanced at her as far as she'd noticed. And every time it was just the two of them in a room, Sherlock took to occupying himself with his microscope or with simply leaving the room.

Madeline couldn't deny it either-

It hurt.

She felt like an unwanted disease in 221B because of Sherlock Holmes.

But Madeline was certain of herself on this fact- that if she did not get Sherlock to agree to give her more information about her parents- she was going to do it on her own, no matter how dangerous.

* * *

Later that day John and Sherlock returned to 221B having just solved another case.

"We were pretty damn close to dying." John stated when Madeline threw her arms around him in a tight hug.

"I missed you." She said returning the smile he gave her with one of his own.

"I missed you too, darling."

Sherlock huffed passed them in his usual manner towards the bathroom to take a shower. _The least of my concerns right now._ Madeline thought decidedly. "So!" She continued cheerily, they both took a seat at the table having some of the tea she'd made. "Tell me about this one?"

"You'll hear all about it- I'm taking to post it on my blog later tonight." John took a sip of his tea and moaned that it was exactly what he needed; he seemed exhausted beyond belief. "If you don't mind I'm going to take the shower once Sherlock's finished and drop off to go straight to bed I'm so bloody tired.

"Why don't you mention me in your blog?" Madeline asked curiously taking a sip of her tea. "I'm just wondering. I mean, you talk about everything from Sherlock refusing to get the grocery shopping to Irene Adler to the details in your case but I'm never mentioned."

John looked uneasy for a moment, setting his cup down back in its saucer, clearing his throat. "I was asked not to."

Madeline looked at him confused, "What? Who asked you not to?"

"Who do you think?"

The sounds of the shower were shut off.

_He's keeping me a secret then?_ Madeline thought curiously, _but that doesn't make any sense, I walk in and out of 221B all day. Of course I'll be seen!_ But his treatment of her, his lying to John about the night they slept next to each other, his telling John not to post about her on his blog, his refusal to go out with John on weekends **only** when Madeline would be going along- it's not that he was keeping her a secret from 221B, _he's keeping me a secret from regards of himself. _

Madeline smiled sadly at John who returned her sentiments with a compassionate glance. "Still got that date with Jack tonight?" John grabbed her hand and squeezed, trying to lighten the mood. A tear escaped out the side of Madeline's eye and she quickly wiped it away. Madeline nodded her head with a false smile on her face.

"Yeah, that's tonight."

"Listen, Madeline," John said grabbing her other hand in his own, "Sherlock is… complicated."

"No, I know. I'm an idiot John. I'm so far from home- I've never been away for this long and I'm just wanting some attention I suppose; like every other woman who meets him does, wants his attention I mean. But then reality sets in and it's all quickly dashed… I'm just an idiot looking for compassion in the wrong person."

John looked at her and began hesitantly, his voice soft and questioning, "…Are you sure it's just compassion you want from him?"

They sat in silence for a moment or two. Madeline stared at John not knowing how to answer.

The loud opening of the bathroom door interrupted the moment.

"Well, looks like it's my turn, you ok?" Madeline nodded, "cheer up! You'll have fun on your date tonight." She smiled at him not sure what to believe anymore; John took one last sip of his tea and headed towards the bathroom.

Sherlock carelessly walked out of the bathroom, soaking wet from head to toe in nothing but a towel to his bedroom. His chest was bare and perspiring from the heat of the bathroom and his hair was slicked back as best as it could be-minus the one rebellious curl that refused to get off his forehead. SHe could see his sharp cheekbones and the two muscle crevices that led downwards into the towel that hung low on his hips.

_Bastard, he's doing this little parade on purpose. _

Madeline sat, cursing at herself for staring at him as he walked into his room. He was doing it on purpose and he knew that she was staring. This was the most he'd recognized Madeline as existing for the past week- and she had no idea as to why he did it other than to piss her off because he _knew_ she'd look at him.

_Fucking beast! God damn you Sherlock Holmes, you cheeky bastard. _

Sherlock made sure to close his bedroom door loudly behind him just to add to the effect.

* * *

Finally after Sherlock had left his room Madeline took it upon herself to go through her drawers again and put something in there for safekeeping.

She kneeled down and took off her necklace with the engraved heart and key on it. She sighed as she took the picture of her parents out of her bag. She'd secretly kept it in her pocket for the past week, sneaking in looks at it whenever she could. But now it was time to retire it and actually find out more about them rather than just stare at them. And she was going to do it- with or without the help of Sherlock Holmes.

Madeline took one last long look at her parents and gave the picture a kiss before slipping it into her drawers and locking them shut. As she was leaving her eyes went to the site of Sherlock's coat hanging on the back of the door. _Don't do it Madeline… don't do it._

But before she could help it, Madeline had her face buried in the collar of his coat, inhaling his intoxicating scent. _Unnghh… damn him. _Just as she was pulling away from her cologne-frenzied haze, Madeline heard a piece of paper shuffle. _No… don't do it!_ But of course she did it.

Madeline reached into the pocket of Sherlock's coat and pulled out a plane ticket; disappointment flooded her as she saw the destination.

* * *

4 hours later Madeline sat in the living room decked out from head to toe waiting for her date. She was eating a bowl of pasta to ready herself for dinner, _can't let Jack know I actually eat like I'm a starved African child._

John walked in looking dapper in a nice jumper and his leather jacket. "ooh!" Madeline cooed playfully, "Fancy date tonight?"

"Yep!" John exclaimed, "How do I look?"

"Like you're gunna get laid."

"Yes!" John bellowed raising his fist triumphantly. "Finally! Sherlock always seems to find it most convenient to have cases right around the time when getting laid is in my spectrum of possibility. You know, its been months."

Madeline snorted, "Yeah, wait till you reach the threshold where you're constantly pissy because its been so long." John looked at her curiously.

"I have a feeling this is going to be sad- but when was the last time you… you know."

"Uhm.." Madeline said pointedly stabbing at her pasta, "Ya don't wanna know John, trust me, you might weep for me."

"Is that why you eat so much? Filling all of your unmet needs with food?"

"Ugh, god I wish that was the case," Madeline slurped a huge pile of noodles in her mouth talking in between bites, "but maybe that's what I'll start telling people. Then I won't look like such a fat ass all the time." John chuckled shaking his head.

"You're not a fat ass, you just have the appetite of a grown male footballer. And you keep your figure- no shame in that. And who knows- maybe you'll get lucky tonight with Jack!" He said excitedly fixing his hair in the mirror one last time.

Madeline didn't reply, she only shoveled more pasta in her mouth.

"Goodbye, love!" John gave her a kiss on the forehead and bounced down the stairs of 221B.

"Byeee. Have good sexy times!" She called after him, leaving her alone in the flat. "God this is freaking good pasta." She mumbled to herself as she finished the bowl.

Walking into the kitchen Madeline maneuvered herself around the human heart that lay sliced up in pieces on the counter. These were the sort of things she'd grown accustomed to on Baker street. As she washed her plate Madeline didn't even bother to turn around when Sherlock's heavy footing resonated through the flat. She heard him walk into the living room and continued about her business in the kitchen as usual. This was the way it went. They didn't speak. They didn't stay in the same room together. And they certainly didn't acknowledge each other.

"It's not common social practice to go snooping in someone's coat."

Madeline's stomach churned and churned in a sudden change of events. She paused while drying her plate. _Fuck! Dammit. I knew he'd know… Christ. I can't get out of this one. Why did I have to go and do that? Don't give in now- fight back! He goes through your stuff all the time; you're not the only one at fault_.

This was true of course, Sherlock had taken it upon himself to rid certain pieces of Madeline's clothing that he didn't like while she wasn't there. She'd find little scraps of them in the fireplace and the next day she'd find a replacement for it in the mail but most likely a different cut, size, or colour.

"Neither is not speaking to someone that you live with for extended periods of time." _Hah! Yeah, you got him._ Madeline thought happily. She smiled to herself momentarily before dropping it and turning around to face him. He was looking incredibly posh in his coat and scarf, clearly he was getting ready to leave again even though he'd just arrived.

He looked different though, and it had Madeline worried. He looked uneasy.

It was rare when Sherlock Holmes looked uneasy.

Sherlock observed her, "we've been through this bit before."

"And your point is? Nothings changed, has it?"

He looked away momentarily before returning his piercing gaze at her, "The plane ticket… there's no need to mention that to anyone. Including John."

"Why's that? Why shouldn't I tell John you're going to Karachi to save The Woman?" Sherlock looked slightly impressed by her bluntness towards him, "I'm not an idiot-"

"I never said you were." His quick comment caught her off guard before she continued determined.

"She told me where she might be headed. And now you're going after her." Sherlock didn't reply. Both of them merely stood in silence staring at each other. Madeline felt tingles rise up her throat that made her eyes burn, but she pushed them back down. "How did you know I saw it in your coat? Hm? How did you deduce that? Was it the speck of dust on my right index finger?"

"…You put it back in the wrong pocket."

Madeline swallowed and rolled her eyes at his simple answer. She could feel the room closing in on her. Whenever she was alone with Sherlock Holmes, she always left his presence more embarrassed and more confused than she'd ever felt. This time was no different. She had to get out of there, she'd wait for Jack downstairs. "I won't tell John or anyone. Don't worry."

"I'm not done yet." He said not moving from his place. Madeline reluctantly turned from the top of the stairs and looked at him questioningly waiting for an answer. Sherlock put up his usual stoic cold exterior and spoke with her bluntly. "I can't tell you anymore about your parents."

"...Excuse me?" She was shocked by his sudden admission.

"I will not be telling you any more information, whatsoever, in regards to your parents."

"You can't or you won't?"

"Both. But mostly the latter."

Madeline was in shock and she couldn't deny how hurt she felt, but she did her best to not let it show on her face. She looked at the beast defiantly, gathering her strength. "Then I'll just go and figure it all out on my own."

"I've made sure that's impossible for you or anyone else to do." Madeline stared at him in absolute and utter shock.

"Wh…what?"

"It doesn't matter how hard you dig, I made it impossible for you to find anything. The only people that know this information that you know of is myself and Mycroft. That is the way it's going to stay."

Madeline stood and stared at him, wide-eyed and speechless. She felt herself grow dizzy. Anger bubbled in her blood and she could feel bile rise up her throat as her eyes burned with tears of disappointment and fury. "But you… you brought me here to…" She couldn't complete her sentence as she found herself choking on her words. Tears unwillingly fell from her eyes, she squeezed them shut and contained her angry sobs. "Why? Why are you doing this to me?"

Sherlock stood and stared at her neutrally. He looked like a marble statue unable to show expression or emotion. "I have to." Madeline seethed with anger.

"So you, you tell me I'm adopted brought me here all the way from Colorado to help me find out about my parents and my past- I learn that they were murdered and gave me away to spare my life, then I learn that you actually know _everything_ about them, and now you tell me I can never know _anything_ else?! Why they died, who killed them, what they did, who they were- even what their fucking names were?! Is that what you're telling me?"

Silence fell between them. Madeline's sharp breathing was loud and it was all they could hear before Sherlock spoke up, still staring at her with his neutral expression and tone of voice that nothing could break through.

"Yes."

"NO!" She shouted marching towards him, she stuck her finger in his face, "No you don't! You can just tell me, I won't tell anyone- I promise; just tell me and I'll leave, I promise- I'll leave-" She pleaded.

"No. Things didn't turn out as I'd ...anticipated. Don't be a fool, Madeline, I won't tell you- "

Sherlock's words were cut off as a sharp stinging slap hit his cheek. He found his neck turned suddenly facing the kitchen as he realized what just happened. His eyes had closed involuntarily as his cheek burned intensely. He looked down for a moment before turning his head back to stare at her with the same stoic expression he'd placed before.

Her face was red, her cheeks were wet and her lips were swollen as she sobbed, turning her back to him.

Madeline couldn't take it anymore. She'd cracked under the pressure. Cracked under being used and stretched and then thrown away, only to be told nothing. "You're an awful…" She said turning back to look at him containing her cries, "Awful man. You're the worst, most horribly hateful human being I've ever known!" She was no longer crying as she shouted at him, every ounce of her patience gone.

Madeline faced him and looked straight into his dead ice-cold eyes continuing without censor, "You're an arrogant, self absorbed, self centered son of a bitch! You brought me here and toyed with me for the past 3 months!"

She'd expected him to walk out seeing as he didn't have to stand there- it wasn't like she could've stopped him had he wanted to leave. But he didn't. Sherlock stayed and stood watching her, listening to her yell and curse him. "Hateful man! **I** **_hate you_** Sherlock Holmes! and I wish I'd never met you! I wish you'd never come to see me that day in Louisville… you've ruined my life you heartless **machine**!"

With that, Madeline Smith grabbed her purse and jacket and ran down the stairs of 221B in an angry heap, slamming the front door behind her. Immediately, and quite suddenly, she found herself in the arms of Jack who was about to knock on the front door.

"Woe, woe, what happened? What's going on Maddie?" She was far too upset to even mention to him that she hated it when people called her Maddie. Madeline buried her face in his shoulder and weeped as they stood in front of the taxi he'd arrived in. She shook her head as she sobbed.

"Was it that detective what's-his-name?" He began heatedly looking up at the flat, staring at the windows to try and catch a glimpse of Sherlock. "What did he do to you?"

Madeline's heart began to race quickly as she pulled away from him and shook her head wiping her eyes, the last thing she needed was another fight to happen. "No, please, let's just go, please, please, please…" She begged lightly. Madeline didn't want to think about it anymore, she didn't even want to hear Sherlock's name ever again. He'd ruined her, hurt her- _and for what?_ She needed to get away, to get away from 221B- even if only for a little while.

Jack nodded his head reluctantly and led her to the taxi.

As she got in to the car, Jack turned around and took one last glance at 221B and found the curtains of the living room shaking and moving back into place, Sherlock had been watching them. "Jack?" Madeline's exhausted voice said from her seat. Jack smiled sadly at her lightly and got in the car closing the door behind him as they drove off to dinner.

* * *

John smiled and laughed at Bethany, his date. They sat over tea at her place after dinner and a movie.

Everything was going just as he'd planned.

"Well, that's lovely, please do tell me more about what it's like working in an art museum." John said with interest perching himself on his knees. Bethany flashed him an excited smile and began to talk animatedly about her work.

John didn't care about art. Or museums. But John cared about Bethany. He liked her. She was nice, pretty and showed great interest in him. Also, John couldn't deny anymore that he wanted to have sex- no, needed to have sex.

_Tonight's the night, John, this is going to happen._ A smile arose on John's face as she placed her hand on his knee. _Yes! _

_ZZzzzz! _

"Uhm, what was that?" Bethany asked, removing her hand from his knee.

"Nothing, no one." John took out his mobile and blocked the call coming from Mycroft. "please, continu-"

_ZZZZZZzzz! _

It buzzed over and over again. John sighed annoyed and threw a smile at Bethany, "I am so sorry but this may very well be an emergency, do you mind if I take it?"

When John was finally alone in the kitchen he whipped his phone out and answered with no patience left, "Listen Mycroft! I'm all fine with taking care of Sherlock when he's in a bad way but there is such a thing as human needs and I-"

"This isn't about Sherlock, John." Mycroft answered coolly cutting him off. "Sherlock's not even answering his phone at the moment. Beyond the point, I can't seem to get a hold of him so now I have to rely on you."

"Rely on me for what?" John's anger had subsided into worry, "Mycroft what's going on?"

"It's Madeline…" John's heart dropped, "Where did you say her date was taking her again tonight?"

"To a music performance thing at the Royal Festival Hall."

"Feel free to turn on the news."

John hurriedly marched his way back into the living room where Bethany was still sitting, all of his past thoughts towards getting laid were lost as his stomach churned, one of his worst nightmares was coming true as he turned on the news. "My god…" John whispered, the phone nearly dropping away from his ear.

* * *

"So…" Irene said sitting up on the bed of the hotel suit, "leaving already?"

Sherlock fixed up his "costume," he was in traditional Pakistani garb still with a plane ticket to London clutched in his hand. "Yes."

"Oh come on now, don't be like that." She said sitting up on the edge of the bed where he stood. Irene wrapped her legs around his thighs and brought him closer, his knees right up against her hips, Sherlock looked down at her. "At least let me thank you. You did save my life."

"I know. I was there." He quipped back. She ran her hands up his thinly covered chest.

"Yes, you were…why did you do it?"

"Because." He said grabbing ahold of her wrists, stopping her ministrations, "you are… different."

"Meaning?"

"Meaning you challenged me."

"I lost, didn't I?" Irene released herself from his grasp and got up on her knees almost coming level with his face.

"Yes, you did. You never were the woman who beat me."

"Oh I know that. You humiliating me in front of your brother was enough of an assurance of that."

Sherlock hummed in response, raising one eyebrows, "I almost let you win, you know… but once you said Moriarty, I wasn't going to let you get away with anything.

Irene looked up at him longingly, "Well… mostly anything." She placed her hands softly on his shoulders. Irene leaned up, her lips barely catching on to Sherlock's until they landed on his cheek, he'd turned his head sharply. "It's her, isn't it?" Sherlock turned back and looked at her stoically, "It's that American, Madeline, I know." Irene's voice was disappointed, "Who knew that it would take such a strange girl to capture the heart of Sherlock Holmes-"

"ENOUGH." Sherlock demanded suddenly, pulling away from her. He was upset now and that much was evident, "There is nothing, do you understand? ...It's best if you'd never met her."

"Ah, I see," Irene rose an inquisitive eyebrow, "So Sherlock is no longer interested in collecting his prize girl anymore? She'll be disappointed to hear that."

Sherlock rubbed his temple and ran a hand through his hair, not wanting to say that Irene had it the wrong way around. He couldn't get Madeline's words out of his head throughout his whole rescue trip- _You're the worst most horribly hateful human_…_I **hate you** Sherlock Holmes! I wish I'd never met you! I wish you'd never come to see me that day in Louisville… you've ruined my life you heartless **machine**! _

They haunted him. Bit at him. And a part of Sherlock couldn't help but relive that moment over and over because deep down, even though he knew what he'd done to her was the right thing (from his perspective)- that he felt he deserved it. Her words stung him deep. _Let them._ He thought wearily.

"I have to go now. My flight leaves in 20 minutes. To the world you're dead. It might be best you stay that way for a while." He collected himself. This wasn't the time to reflect upon what had happened earlier. He had to snap out of it… he had to…

"I'll be waiting for your call, Sherlock Holmes."

"Do stay out of trouble."

Irene smiled wickedly at him, "I'll do my best."

Sherlock exited the room with an exhausted sigh. Walking away from Irene was not difficult now that he knew she would stay alive on her own, that they'd just deceived everybody they knew. Sherlock felt a good amount of satisfaction from that fact- especially since Mycroft was in that category of deceived people.

He couldn't let Irene die, not after she'd played the game so well… not after he'd gained a certain amount of respect for her. Sherlock would continue to call her The Woman as a salute. _The one woman who matters? _Mycroft had told him, quite insistent that was how Sherlock felt. Sherlock had hung up the phone on Mycroft then, not answering him, he didn't want to reply the truth- the truth that Mycroft's assumption was wrong.

_No point in helping what I'm trying to deny._ Sherlock told himself restlessly as he walked out of the hotel lobby. His phone buzzed for the millionth time in his pocket. He knew it was Mycroft but was shocked to see John's name on the caller i.d. "John." He stated.

"Sherlock, where the**_ hell_** are you!?" John shouted loudly. Sherlock could hear sirens and shouting in the background, immediately he was on alert.

"John? John where are you? What's going on?"

"It's Madeline!" John said breathlessly, he was clearly running towards somewhere.

_He just ran inside the hospital. _Sherlock deduced from the sounds of the conversations in the background. He felt a tightening in his chest. "What happened? Quick! John, what happened? Tell me everything you can!"

"There was a supposed "gas leak" at the Royal Hall." John got into a quiet area, Sherlock guessed the corner of a hallway where he couldn't be heard, he lowered his voice. "Mycroft told me that's just what they're reporting, but he told me the truth." John took a shaky deep breath, his nerves on edge as he spoke ready to break down. "…Sherlock they're after her, the ones who killed her parents are the ones who did this... that bomb was meant for Madeline tonight, and they succeeded. Sherlock- they got her- _oh god Sherlock_, the explosion- they got her."

* * *

**Still breathing? Ok, I hope so. It's all been leading up to this in part 1.  
Just as a note- there are only 15 chapters in _this_ part so, yes, next chapter _is_ the last chapter in part 1. **

**And just as my usual reminder- please do write a review in that box right down there :) They're so loverly, they keep me so excited to continue writing on and I adore them. **


	15. A New Beginning, A New End

**We're finally here everyone- the last chapter of part 1. **

**You should probably read this first:This chapter is split into several different parts. I tried to make it all flow as one, but I didn't want to lose the integrity of any of the characters emotions in trying to stuff everything in one long piece- so I split it up into bits and pieces that are titled separately as little sub-chappys. It's quite long- 29 pages long. But it should read fast. **

**I want to say a deep and heartfelt thank you to everyone who's commented in this whole part. And just to stray away at my usual list/thank you who commented on my last chapter, I'll answer each and one of you properly because I've never had so many comments at once before and I was seriously so touched to those of you taking your time to write me- Love X a million.**

**57pop:** Nooo! Don't die! You have to read this chapter! Damn I wish I had John on speed dial to talk you out of this. Thank you for commenting before your untimely death.

**aorangeinboston:** Omg don't die either. Seriously, I can't go to prison for this- I write fanfiction, I'll never survive. Meg- listen to me, don't seize, the most important moments of your life will pass you by- marriage, children- Sherlock season 3, the Dr who 50th anniversary special… this chapter and the other 9 parts to my series… you must live for us all!

**Guest:** My anonymous commenter. I don't know you, not even your name- but I love that you love it. And thank you for commenting!

**Amehhh:** Noises, when it comes to Sherlock always seem to be strange- but never unpleasant ;) Thank you for commenting my love!

**Valery Bubbles:** I'm so glad you love this story! I love writing it for you! I don't know if I've captures John and Sherlock in a _different _way, I've tried to keep them as close to character as possible, but if you see it that way and _still_ enjoy it- then that's absolutely wonderful and I am still satisfied! Thank you for commenting Miss Bubbles, I hope you enjoy this chapter.

**Leelee909:** Wow! Thanks for the long comment, I love knowing all of your opinions on it! Honestly, I'm quite surprised/bummed out at the lack of comments for my story as well. Especially when I try so hard to keep Sherlock as accurate as possible. I've read so many stories where he's so… mushy. And he's _not_ that guy. I adore Sherlock the way he is- faults and all.  
I'm so glad you like Madeline! I'll tell you this- I did my best at that I hope she is not a Mary-Sue character. Rather than make her a girl we all "want to be" I made her a girl that most of us _are_. And no it's not weird you see Keira Knightley as Madeline! Although I do think Keira is far too glamorous/beautiful to be Madeline. Madeline's beauty is physically more subtle as so much of her glow/energy is from her shiningly strange personality. And I feel absolutely honored that I've received one of your rare comments on my story. Thank you I really appreciate it and I look forward to hearing more of your fantastic insights.

**And, without further ado, the final chapter to Part 1**- **Concerto in D Minor.**

* * *

_Contrition. _

The room was unbearably cold.

His hands were numb as he turned page after page, and his voice was the only sound in the white room.

With each passage, he found himself understanding more. Appreciating more. Realizing the depth behind the assumptions. Not just of the story itself, or of the writer- but of the girl who had turned him to read it in the first place. He continued to read aloud,

_"'…feeling all the more than common awkwardness and anxiety of his situation, now forced herself to speak; and immediately, though not very fluently, gave him to understand that her sentiments had undergone so material a change, since the period to which he alluded, as to make her receive with gratitude and pleasure his present assurances…'" _

He paused for a moment, allowing his mind to wander.

_Sooner, I could have been here sooner. _

_Irene was not a priority. _

_Why did I make her one?_

_I knew this was coming. I should have done something sooner. _

_I brought her here. _

_How did I not know? How did I not see? _

_I was blind. I tried. I was selfish. _

_Of course I was selfish. _

One glance at the immovable bed next to him brought him back to continuing the tale he'd already read aloud twice within the span of only a day.

Reading had soon turned into reciting.

_"'Had she been able to encounter his eye, she might have seen how well the expression of heartfelt delight, diffused over his face, became him; but, though she could not look, she could listen, and he told her of feelings, which, in proving of what importance she was to him, made his affection every moment more valuable.'" _

He chastised himself. His mind was half in the text, half in his own destruction.

His inevitable destruction, which he would induce himself.

_Idiot. Idiot. Idiot. _

_All was well before. _

_Before she knew who she really was. _

_Before I brought her here. _

_Before she met me. _

He sat and continued. Continued to read to the unconscious woman next to him. The one he had administered in putting there.

Sherlock looked over at Madeline who laid unbearably still.

The guilt seeped into him slowly.

It consumed it.

It drove him mad.

_I care. _

_Why do I care?!_

There was nothing to be done now; Sherlock knew that as much.

There was only one way left to save Madeline's life- and that way would include a separation- a sacrifice.

She laid breathing, but barely. Sherlock had every intention of keeping it that way, without taking a chance. He knew what he had to do.

Until then, until she would wake up and spite him (quite rightfully) without regard to reason or lack there of- there was nothing to be done. Nothing he could do.

So there he sat at her bedside, not having left for a moment since arriving, and read.

He read, and read, and read until she'd find herself awake.

That was all he could do.

Taking a deep breath, he continued,

_"They walked on, without knowing in what direction. There was too much to be though, and felt, and said, for attention to any other objects…" _

* * *

_The Pinched Nerve. _

Madeline's blurred eyes had been opened for a good moment or two when she heard the sound of her name from next to her.

"Madeline?"

"John?"

His face was filled with relief as her vision came clearer, "Thank god. We didn't know how long you'd be out for."

"Was that you, earlier?"

"What do you mean? I just got here."

"…What happened?"

John proceeded to tell her of the 'Gas Leak' but assured her that the real truth of the matter would better be heard from Sherlock. "That is, if you still want to see him."

Madeline looked away, almost forgetting how they'd left things before her date. "I don't know."

"He's going to be the one that'll give you the best answers…"

Madeline reached up and felt her cheek, which was swollen and cut, "How bad am I right now?"

"Not too bad. Some cuts, a broken rib which has been set."

Finally she looked back at John, "My legs? How are my legs?" Her voice was worried and hesitant.

"Don't you worry, your legs are fine. You'll be ready to dance in no time."

"And Jack?"

"Jack's fine. …no one was killed with the bomb, shockingly. Lots of injuries, though-"

"John, who did this?"

"Specifically? …I don't know who. You'll have to ask Sherlock for that. I think he's more willing to give you information now. Even he was caught off guard by this all."

Madeline sighed and looked away not knowing how to continue.

John sat with her for the next hour until she fell asleep to the sounds of his childhood stories that he told her to try and bring the injured girl some comfort.

* * *

_The Brothers' Strife. _

"You know who's doing this was." Mycroft stated.

The hallway was empty for the Holmes' brothers. The panic of the hospital had died down as visiting hours were over, but Mycroft's connections to allow them to stay were not.

"You mean the literal answer to that or the metaphorical answer?" Sherlock replied with mild sarcasm. He was stopped by Mycroft who held out a cigarette; he looked at his older brother inquisitively.

"You knew this one, this _Miss Smith_. Let's not play fools, hm?"

Sherlock snatched the cigarette and lit it up. Taking a deep long drag he felt the tightness in his chest relieve itself a bit. "Hm."

Curious. This cigarette was not low tar.

"Who's in there with her now?"

"John."

"And does he know who she _really _is?"

"No. Of course not. But as we've just realized it no longer matters anymore, does it?"

"It's best it stays this way, Sherlock."

"I'm telling John. I'm telling her. Not all of it. Just the basics."

"Guilt, my dear brother?" Mycroft raised an eyebrow. Sherlock put out his cigarette and turned to him. "It's becoming you. Remorse is not an advantage."

"Nor is her remaining ignorant as to why there was an attempt on her life, especially when it is the only way now for her to understand the importance of what has to be done next."

Sherlock's voice left no room for argument.

"So, you know what you have to do then?"

"I know this is a difficult suggestion in your case- but don't be a moron, Mycroft. Of course I know what I have to do. She has to leave."

"Good." Mycroft was subtly pleased with slight arrogance. "It's better this way. She _weakens_ you, Sherlock."

"Just so you know, _dear brother_," He spoke with sarcasm, "I am not doing this for your benefit to keep those files under wraps. Those files are not my concern."

"Those files concern us all Sherlock, even you know that. They're powerful enough to stay relevant over 2 decades later."

"Still stating the obvious, Mycroft. How joie of you!" He bit back, "we're doing this without her now. So leave her out."

"Well, you're the one that brought her into it."

"You _agreed_… a mistake that can be easily remedied." Sherlock straightened his jacket.

"Not a mistake at first." Mycroft corrected him with arrogant teasing, "In fact, at first when you made the move to go after her on a whim and bring her back, as you just stated- I agreed with your actions- she was to our advantage then. But now she is the opposite. Her staying here empowers them and _weakens you_…you just had to get yourself entangled with her-"

"_I _found her. You didn't even know she existed until I pointed her out."

"And yet you're the reason she has to go away." Mycroft replied coolly. "Let's hope she doesn't hate you for this when you tell her."

"I hope she does." Sherlock countered, "It'll be better that way."

"No argument for you there, dear brother."

The Holmes brothers went silent as their conversation ended. They continued to stand looking out the window as Mycroft offered Sherlock another cigarette.

* * *

_A Realization._

Days later Madeline found herself growing restless in the hospital room. Her wounds were healing.

She'd just had a conversation with Jack in which she informed him she could not continue with a relationship. He had a feeling he knew why- or rather _who. _

There were many tells for Madeline to know before she was told- perhaps it was the fact that John had began to act strangely distant around her, or the fact that Sherlock had not come in once since she'd woken up, or perhaps it was the attempt on her life just days previous- but Madeline knew that London was the least safe place for her to be. And that she had to leave.

Two knocks sounded at the door and John walked in with a close-lipped smile on his face.

"How's it going today?"

"Fine. I'm feeling better."

"Your doctor says you should be out by the week!" He said happily sitting next to her bed. "Wonderful news, isn't it?"

"Yeah, yeah it is." Silence fell between them, Madeline couldn't hold in her questioning anymore. "You know now, don't you? …You know who did this and why. Specifically, I mean."

John nodded his head in admission, "I'm so sorry Madeline, but I can't tell you. I can't tell anyone, there's only one person who can- who should. …It's bigger than I ever thought it was."

John's words were cut off by another two knocks, and the entrance of Lestrade and another detective with curly black hair and a scowl on her face. "Detective inspector." Madeline said happily as he walked over and gave her a hug.

"Madeline! How are you feeling?"

"Fine, better, and you? You must be pissed off that you can't investigate this."

"Gotta follow orders." Lestrade said as-a-matter-of-factly bouncing on his feet, "Mycroft and Sherlock have their reasons of course. Sounds like the government's got it all sorted… haven't the foggiest what it's all about though. Wish I was included but- there you go."

"No surprise though, is it?" Said the female detective casually. "Sherlock Holmes carrying on his own, keeping secrets from Scotland Yard- making fools out of us. Came here to give him a piece of my mind."

Madeline narrowed her eyes at the detective and her blatant comments, "Excuse me, but who are you?"

"Sergeant Sally Donovan, you must've heard of me."

"Actually, no, I haven't. Sherlock's never mentioned you." Madeline bit.

"Funny, he's never mentioned you either." Sally bit back.

Madeline nearly ripped off her ivy and jumped off of her bed, a sudden punch of adrenaline hitting her damaged body. "Alright, alright ladies, that's enough." John said calmly holding Madeline back. Madeline turned her attention away from the unsavory sergeant and back to Lestrade, putting a smile on.

"Thanks for stopping by to see me, Greg. It's really nice to see you, to see a friendly face after all of this commotion."

"Hey now, don't you worry about it. Seems sort of funny that it was a gas leak, though, doesn't it?" He said curiously, knowing that it was a lie. John and Madeline looked away, he knew they couldn't answer him. He was a clever man.

Sally snorted and crossed her arms, "naturally everything involved with Sherlock is blatant lies-"

"Excuse me, do you have a purpose here?" Madeline asked bluntly. "Because all I hear coming out of your mouth is blah blah blah blah blah-"

"Oh boy, here's another one!" Sally laughed bitterly.

"Sally-" Greg tried to cut her off but was overrun by her words.

"Another person to trust Sherlock Holmes so quickly, even after all that just happened. No wonder you two are so close-" She indicated towards Madeline and John, "You're both in the freak-loving fan club."

"…_What did you just call him_?" Madeline hissed. She didn't know if it was the drugs she was on for the pain or having been stuck in the hospital bed for so long- but she was **pissed** and not afraid to show it. John took a hold of her wrist and held on tight whispering for her to calm down.

"I said he's a freak," Sally stated carelessly, "And you would be better to stay away from him!"

"He's not a freak! You're the freak, _bitch_!"

"WOE!" Shouted John holding on to Madeline as she almost, nearly, got out of her bed… again. "We're going to have to tell that doctor to down your dosage, hm?"

Just as Sally was going to rebuttal with anger in her eyes Lestrade but in, "Sally, that's enough. Let's give the poor girl a rest," he turned his attention to the rest of the room, announcing to everyone, "Let's all just calm down! It's been a hard week and this is the last thing anyone needs-"

Just as Lestrade had tried to calm down the room, the man of topic walked in without knocking. His demeanor was cool, as usual, but no one was fooled, the unusually neutral expression on his face and glint in his eyes indicated to everyone that he'd just heard everything.

Madeline would have felt more embarrassed at having been overheard by Sherlock for 'defending his honor' she supposed, but her emotions were taking a toll on her. She didn't know why Sally's taunts had upset her _so much_.

"Sherlock!" Lestrade said quickly trying to avoid another fight, "Good to see you. Sally and I were just on our way out. Call you soon for the next case."

Lestrade put his hands on both of Sally's arms, trying to lead her out of the room. Sherlock looked down at her as she stared up at him defiantly. "**_Freak._**" She taunted him.

"Why you-" Madeline felt the sudden sharp heat burn in her chest again as she tried to get up but was stopped by John's strong hold of her. "yeah, walk away!" Madeline shouted as Sally and Lestrade left the room; Greg looked back at John with an apologetic look before Sherlock closed the door.

Madeline was left breathing heavily, her eyes burning in frustration as she closed them trying to calm herself down.

"Feel better? Should I get you some sleep medication?" John asked worried about her blood pressure, he momentarily took her pulse.

"No, no I'm fine." Madeline felt emotional all of a sudden and she didn't know why, she looked up at John with watery eyes, Sally's words had upset her greatly…. More than usual.

_I care so much of what other people think of him… _Madeline realized.

Even more than she'd ever thought she would be caring about other people's opinions of him- for she barely cared what people thought of her, "John, could you get me some Taco Bell?" She sniffed holding back her tears at her new consciousness to her reflexes towards others and Sherlock Holmes. "I want a beefy nacho burrito grande."

She wanted to eat those feelings away.

"What is a taco bell? Is that a store?" John asked worriedly, Madeline nearly sobbed at his reply.

"It's fast food Mexican from the states." Sherlock stated, "There's one in the Lakeside Shopping centre in Essex. "

_Just don't look at him…_ Madeline repeated to herself closing her eyes at the sound of his voice, _don't look, don't look…_ His presence comforted her. Even having just almost been blown up, with Sherlock Holmes near her, Madeline felt safe.

John looked at Sherlock incredulously, "It's a 45 minute drive!" Sherlock returned John's look with one that said '_Not a good idea John, don't do what you're thinking about saying.' _John turned back to Madeline and spoke anyways, "How about I head over to Tesco's and get you some nice produce or something-"

"Oh my god, like vegetables?" Madeline nearly wept looking up at John, "could this week get any worse?"

John looked at Sherlock who gave him an '_I told you so'_ satisfied smug look that John wanted to punch off of his face. "You know what Madeline, it's fine, I could use a long drive."

"No John, I'm sorry, don't worry about the taco's I'm just really on edge lately, you know, with almost being assassinated and all."

"It's alright darling," John said softly squeezing her hand, "So do you want the produce then?"

"No." She said bluntly.

"Alright then. I'll just get us take-away? Make everyone happy?" John said patting her hands. He loved Madeline to bits but did not want to be there for the conversation Sherlock and her were about to have- especially since he'd just learned everything she was going to be told.

He walked out of the room giving Sherlock one last wide-eyed _Good Luck _expression that was nearer to a compassionate one than an optimistic one.

Madeline took a deep breath and looked up at Sherlock after a moment or two of silence passing between them, and she felt her heart crescendo.

* * *

_The Greatest Deduction. _

Sherlock sat next to Madeline's hospital bed in silence. The only noise was the steady beating of her machine.

"So," Sherlock began, "I see you met Sergeant Donovan."

"Oh yeah, she's a peach." Madeline said sarcastically rolling her eyes.

"That… that thing… you said when she said…" He let his words trail off not knowing how to finish. "that was… good."

Silence.

.

"Did you bring me anything?" Madeline asked.

Sherlock reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a Mars bar; she caught it as he threw it at her lap.

"Yes!" She exclaimed happily, sticking it under her pillow to hide from the nurses and save for later. She hated the hospital food.

Silence, again.

.

.

"So," Sherlock began mockingly, "How was your date with Jack?"

"You know, don't think that just because I yelled at Donovan or that you brought me candy that I've forgotten what happened before my date between us-"

"I don't expect you to." He stated bluntly, his deep voice resonating in the room. "Madeline, you have to leave London. Go back to Colorado."

"…I know." She said softly, "care to tell me why? Or are you still determined to keep everything about who I really am from me?"

"I did that in order to prevent something like this from happening."

"You mean that attempt on my life that happened anyways?"

"They didn't _want_ to kill you, Madeline." Sherlock looked at her, his eyes filled with conflict as she stared into them. "If they wanted to kill you, they would have succeeded."

"Then what did they want?"

"To send a message that they want you out… and I got it."

"…and who was it exactly that sent you that message? Who is this 'they' you keep talking about?"

Sherlock turned his whole body to stare at her sternly, "Madeline, are you sure you want to know this? The payoff will be short- I assure you; there is a very big possibility that you will want to wish you'd never known."

A million thoughts ran through Madeline's head, she couldn't deny the temptation to be absolutely ignorant was tempting- but she'd come too far, waited too long, and had been through too much to not know. "I want to know."

"Alright. Let's start off with that necklace that your parents had made for you that you found in your crib at their house." Madeline instinctively reached for the necklace, which she thought was around her neck, "It's with John now for safekeeping. That necklace was left to you even after the killer had done their job, what does that tell us about it? That he wanted you to find it."

"Why would he want me to find it?"

"…Because it's a clue. He wants you to know. What does it say?"

"_Madeline Smelting, Our Lovely Heart."_ Madeline recited having stared at it 100 times.

"Hm, good. You've memorized it. We'll come back to this one in a moment. Let's take a second to recognize your features, shall we?"

"What do you mean?"

"When we first met I pointed out the differences in your features to Michael, you with the darker ones. Light olive skin, brown eyes, brown hair-"

"Yes. Of course they're different, I resemble my biological parents. Like in that photo you gave me."

"Correct. _Victoria and Martin Smelting..._" Sherlock said continuing to walk her through numerous deductions, "_Smelting_, while of sound German origin is actually a family name of England and Ireland. Now do your features and your parents darker features match up with such country origins? Not typically if we're to go back genealogically. While your parents were raised in the U.K., they were not born here. …They were born in Italy. Your mother, Victoria, came over when she was 7 and your dad, Martin came over when he was 5."

"I'm… I'm Italian?" Madeline asked incredulously. It was like a new veil was taken out from over her eyes, she was a person with a foreign culture and immigrant parents… _this is definitely going to need a little cultural adjustment._ "I guess that explains why I like food so much."

"Your parents first went to Ireland for 5 years, then eventually moved to England once impregnated with you."

"So what about the name Smelting then? What are you trying to say with that, that's not their real last name?"

"Exactly." Sherlock said glad she was catching on her own, "It's not."

"Then why would they have it engraved on a necklace they wanted to give me?"

"Now you're asking the right question. Smelting was the name they wanted on their adoption papers when they gave you up. Your last name, your real identity was a danger to you. So why cover it up with one last name when they could with two? They changed it on your birth certificate and then when they gave you up the name _Smelting _was on those papers as well. And they gave your American parents permission- and if I believe correctly they must've insisted, that they change your name to their own- _Smith._ Just as another layer to keep your away from your real name."

"And how did my parents have the power to change my birth certificate?"

"Your parents worked for the British government. They dealt with national security at the highest level, which is why they eventually had to move to London." Sherlock's words couldn't help but be met with distain, "Jobs much like my dear brother does now."

"So… I don't get it now, I'm not following." Sherlock had to keep himself from rolling his eyes in frustration, "How does this all connect? Who's trying to kill me- or not trying to kill me? What's my last name and why is my real identity so dangerous?"

"When you went to your parents house, you saw all of their photo's were gone, all that was left were the pictures of you."

"Yes, we already went through this bit months ago-"

"Perhaps you weren't the only child in those pictures." Madeline looked at Sherlock curiously, "…In upper Edmonton, over 20 years ago, there was a disturbed young boy. A young boy who at the age of 5 killed the neighbors cats for sport, who shoved his 'friend' in front of a moving car by the age of 6 because the boy refused to play with him and who lit his parents backyard on fire to watch it burn… a young boy who's own parents worked so hard at their jobs that they had no time to realize the sort of son they had in their house."

Madeline grew eerily silent, watching Sherlock with wide eyes as he continued. "By the age of 8 he'd gained a new sibling, a little sister. He'd grown so enraged, so upset, that his parents had taken time away from work to spend it with their new baby and not for him that he lit their storage in the back yard on fire- nearly igniting the house and burning them alive.

They sent him to an institution for 2 years. And when he returned, his parents hoped he was well, but the problem with institutions is all day is spent with other kids just like you… so he met his equals and grew more and more into the man he would later become. When he came back home at the age of 10 he killed his first person- a fellow classmate, by running his shoelaces through a toxin knowing it would get into the kids system.

It's not normal for parents to fear their own child, but when he's determined to kill and escapes from the house after they realize what he's done- they must be precautious."

"I don't understand, if they knew their son was the one that killed his classmate and that he got away with it- wouldn't the parent's just turn him in?"

"…I suppose to us it's simple. But _sentiment_- oh a sentiment for a child makes the parents do wild crazy things like let their child get away with murder- they thought they could fix him, help him."

"…what happened next?" Madeline was almost afraid to ask.

"His actions caught the attention of those older than him, those established in the game he wished to play. Those who were not on friendly terms with what his parents did for a living. Not only that- but while he'd been away at the institution the parents came into possession of something that was the most powerful set of documents one could imagine. And they'd hidden it, hidden it so no one could find it- not even the British government. Believing he was next to inherit it all, the boys much older friends had encouraged him to make a decision- and the boy sided with them.

The next day the boys parents were murdered in their sleep by those in his new group. Suddenly, this 11-year-old boy had all the power over a group of grown men. But publically, the boy was unknown to be such a menace except for the "accidental" fire started in his backyard, which was later scraped from his records once he turned 16.

So when his parents were killed he was treated as a victim, and he played the part well. The parents had loved their son but were not ignorant to his new friends after he'd ran away- he was the gangs child soldier. So, all of his hopes were dashed when, in their will, when it was released, it was said he received nothing and that all of their possessions, all of their items- the documents and files included- did not get passed on to him- but to their baby daughter instead. And that when the time would come- she would know where to find them and to make a choice with what to do with them.

With no where to turn the boy and the gang he now worked for attempted to find the girl… they searched high and low all over this continent- but they couldn't find her. It seemed she had disappeared with the documents along with her… until most recently."

Madeline stared at Sherlock, her jaw agape and tears streaming unconsciously down her cheeks. Her heart was beating so hard against her chest that it hurt; a knot was in her throat as she stared at him. "That's me…" She whispered, her voice barely audible.

"Yes." Sherlock replied, "It's you."

"But… but I don't have the documents. I don't have the files that they're in- I don't have anything. It's useless, I'm useless so why does it matter anymore-"

"Your necklace, Madeline. What does it say?" Sherlock pressed again.

"_To Madeline Smelting_," She recited again, wiping her cheeks, "_Our lovely heart_."

"What an interesting phrasing of words… _Our lovely heart._" Sherlock repeated. "Strange phrasing, isn't it? You exist as their heart… their one connection left to this world. Once _their heart_ stops beating, then their connection is lost, is it not?"

"…I don't understand."

"Come on Madeline, _think!"_ He urged, but he caught himself at the sight of Madeline's face. He didn't need John around then to tell him he was being carelessly insensitive. Sherlock recalculated his demeanor, "you inherit, possibly one of the most powerful documents in all of the U.K., you are the only one with access to them and apparently- any knowledge of where they are."

"But I told you, I have no idea-"

"Whether you're consciously aware of it or not- you know where they are somehow. And as long as you're alive- _heart_, those documents can be found. If you die, they're lost forever. You are your parents last living link to this world- having disowned their own son in spirit. That's why you weren't killed this week, they need you alive to find those papers. But we were warned, they know you're alive and you're here."

"What are these documents about anyways? What makes them so important?"

"That I can't tell you." Madeline nodded, knowing he would tell her if it helped her.

"Well, I don't want them."

"It's not a choice, Madeline, they're yours to have as long as you're alive and as long as they're still out there. Do you understand?"

"…So why did you bring me here then? If I was safe back in Colorado, everything hidden from me, my parents had put me in the safest position with no one- not even me knowing who I was- then why did you bring me out into the light?" Madeline asked, so confused now not seeing how her being back in England her true identity exposed helped anyone.

Sherlock sighed and looked away, "This is where it gets complicated."

"You mean more complicated than me having a psychotic older brother who killed our parents and is intent on killing me once he's done with me?"

"Well I'm one step ahead of you in that line."

"What do you mean?"

"He wants to end me before he wants to end you… he has to. He understands that now. Which is why he's done what he's done."

"Why does he have to do that?"

"Because he knows that I won't let him get to you. So he has to get through me first, and he and I have only begun to play his little game. …I brought you here because I _wanted_ him to know we'd found you- we needed him to find you here. You were to our advantage. You being here brought him out of hiding and into a vulnerable place where we could learn more about him- dig deeper into his past so I could finally figure out his game and eventually win when the time comes for the end of our _problem_."

Madeline stared at Sherlock incredulously, "So, I was your …bait?" Her voice, heated.

Sherlock grew uncomfortable, "Yes, in the beginning… sort of." He added quickly. "But you weren't in danger, we knew he had to keep you alive. Because if you die- the documents get lost. We just sort of… dangled you in front of him to weaken him so that I may find his greatest tell.

But then… things changed. You suddenly became his bait. Irene Adler told him of her assumptions of an attachment I formed to you- an _assumption_ she has, mind you. But it didn't matter, he believed it. Having you around became a weakness to us, no longer a strength. He's no longer going to go directly towards you since he's found out I'm in the way first."

"So once he kills you, he'll kill me?" She asked incredulously, wondering how he could talk about such things so casually.

"No, not exactly. If I die he won't kill you, he'll have you get him the documents- then he'll kill you." Sherlock said before turned to face her sternly, "I won't let that happen Madeline-"

"Sort of like you didn't let the "gas leak" happen at the symphony?" Madeline sighed immediately at her own words, hating that she'd said them. Sherlock looked down and flexed his jaw. "I'm sorry." She said lightly, "you're not unprotecting me on purpose-"

"No, don't apologize. You have every right to be upset with me. I led you here on false pretense under the impression that I would let you figure out about your past- not that your past was still active and that it might catch up with you. You're right, you were my bait."

"But… but you said things changed. You said Irene assumed about us- but _you're _the one who just confirmed things changed…" Madeline's mind ran a thousand miles a minute as she stared at Sherlock who was no longer making eye contact with her, he looked away off to the side in silence as it dawned on Madeline, suddenly everything making sense. "oh my god," She said softly, "That's why you kept yourself away from me. Distancing yourself from me. Treating me like a piece of furniture, denying every bit of contact we had. You being attached to me in any way _is_ what put me in danger. …You were trying to save me."

Sherlock shifted himself in his chair, clearly uncomfortable, "I wouldn't use that word, exactly." He mumbled.

After that they both remained silent, either not knowing how to answer, or knowing and choosing not to.

"I am still upset with you for lying to me about what I was here for, leading me on and eventually, literally, having it blow up in my face without consent. You're an arrogant selfish show-off detective, but you already know that." Madeline paused realizing something as well, "…but I want to thank you. I'm glad I know who I am, where I'm from. And that my parents are from a country where it's socially appropriate to eat carbs all day. I mean, I can't believe I'm related to such a monster who's still out there- but as far as I'm concerned my only real brother is back in Louisville and is as queer as the Christmas day parade. But I've learned so much. My life was so plain before and now, with this sad adventure, its… changed. It's real, it feels real. More dangerous, yes, my own brother did just almost kill me- but it's different." Madeline took a deep breath and met Sherlock's eye, holding its gaze as she caught him sneaking a glance at her, "And I want to thank you for trying to save me."

"…Madeline, I almost had you killed." Sherlock turned to stare at her upset. "Don't you understand? I put you on his map now. You're out there- you exist and every criminal knows it. Once he's through with killing me, you're next! How can you possibly be so understanding about this?" Sherlock was utterly and absolutely baffled, "Your mind must be so docile-"

"But he won't kill you." Madeline said suddenly cutting him off before the string of insults made their way out of her mouth.

Sherlock's expression was clearly taken aback as he gave her a shocked glance, he blinked several times, "What?"

"He won't kill you. I know you. …You're too clever for that."

Sherlock furrowed his eyebrows and looked down momentarily, not knowing how to respond to a compliment, seeing as how they were few and far between. He felt more comfortable when she was calling him an arrogant selfish show-off detective. "You don't know him, Madeline. This man, your brother… he has a game planned. Another one. A bigger one than the one I just played. You don't understand who he is now and what he's like."

"But I know you." Madeline said, "And to quote John, '_You'll outlive God trying to have the last word_' so, no, I don't believe you'll die anytime soon."

Sherlock looked at her, his face stern but his voice slightly soft, "Madeline you might have to believe it. I'm not immortal, as much as John seems to think I believe. He could very well win. And if he does, he's coming after you."

"But you said you'd never let that happen."

Sherlock sighed and looked away, placing both of his palms together against his lips, "Don't make me into a hero Madeline, I'm not one. I brought you in this mess, almost got you blown up all for the sake of myself, and you know what- I'd do it again."

"You're just saying that-"

"No." He looked at her sternly, "No I'm not. I live for my cases, for my work, Madeline. I don't love, I don't care- I work." He said it to her as though he wanted her to hang off of every word. "I've had to keep my distance from you, but know this- I am married to my work. Nothing else matters. No one else matters-"

"Except John then?" Madeline said. His words hurt her, but they were always taunting her in the back of her mind, She believed him- she did. He was Sherlock Holmes, he wasn't touchy or full of emotion, he wasn't suddenly going to go soft. But she knew that he _did_ care about someone, she was certain about that. "Maybe you don't care all that much about me other than for getting those documents and using me against my brother-" The words hurt as they came out of her mouth, she shrugged looking away from him holding back the knot in her throat. "But you care, Sherlock. You care about John, Mrs. Hudson- and even Lestrade though you'd prefer not to admit to it." Madeline took a deep breath and returned his stern glare, "getting me to go back home is the solution to keep me safe for your case, but if my brother is who you say he is- he's going to use all of those people you _really_ care about against you… and you're going to have to face that."

Madeline swallowed and leaned back into her pillows. She and Sherlock didn't make eye contact, the silence coming between them again. The conversation easing off to a strange conclusion.

She reached under her pillow and grabbed the candy he'd brought her; she took a bite out of it then set it down. She chewed slowly letting the chocolate fill her mouth. The moan couldn't help but come out of her mouth as she closed her eyes, a week with nothing to eat but hospital food that came in small portions was almost worse for Madeline to deal with than her broken rib. "That's good candy." She mumbled under her breath forgetting he was there.

Sherlock cleared his throat, "well, I'll be off-"

"No, wait… what's my real last name then?"

"Your father's _real_ last name is Moretti. When your parents got married in Ireland they realized the amount of racism they may very well received for it being so blatantly Italian at that time, so before they had children they changed it for the first time into something that was so blatantly Irish. And _that _Irish last name is the name you and your brother were given, the name that your parents and your brother are known by. The one you were born with."

"And what's that name?"

Sherlock glanced at her with a heavy look, this name, she realized, brought him no pleasure in saying. "Moriarty."

"And what's my brother's name?"

"James… or Jim as he likes to go by. His name is Jim Moriarty. …I wouldn't go around saying it, if I were you." Sherlock stood and straightened his jacket, popping his collar. "You don't yet understand exactly how powerful he is."

"Don't worry, I'm not. I may have been born Moriarty for the first two years of my life… but I'm a Smith. I'm keeping my name."

Sherlock nodded once glancing at her, "Good." He stated before heading to the door.

"Sherlock?"

He stopped as his hand reached the door, she could read his back like a book. "Hm." He replied craning his neck around to look at her but keeping his body in place.

Madeline knew this was not going to help their current level of discomfort towards each other after all they'd learned, but she was leaving England, and she needed to say it. "Just for the record- I don't believe that you don't actually care about me. I know I'm the key to throwing Jim's whole operation down for you, but I think I may have rubbed off on you a little bit…" Madeline threw him a small playful smile. "Maybe you've grown accustomed to me."

Shock was visible in Sherlock's eyes- only for a moment did they widen and his eyebrows come together in question, his lips slightly parting at her daring comment. But quickly he composed himself in less than a second; he turned away once again and opened the door to walk out-

"And on another note, I care about you." Madeline said loudly making him stop in his tracks. Even though she could read this discomfort on his back, this time she wished he'd turn around so she could see his face. "Whether or not you do for me- I do for you. …Because I believe that even though you did bait me, you protected me. What you initially did was wrong- and maybe you would go and do it again if you had the choice- but you made all the right choices after that. I agree with John and Lestrade, whether you believe it or not, you can be a good man Sherlock."

Sherlock walked out of the room with his back still turned, closing the door behind him.

* * *

_An Ode. _

That night at 221B Sherlock was still dressed in his suit as he played his violin to the empty room. The nurses had kicked him out after he'd deduced that one of them was steeling Madeline's pudding and the other was having an affair with her gardener. _It's not your pudding._ He'd said to her. But they'd had enough with Sherlock Holmes, and even Mycroft's connections couldn't keep him in the hospital for the night.

John walked in to the living room throwing his jacket on the coffee table sighing; Sherlock didn't even bother to turn around knowing who it was. "Apparently Madeline doesn't hate you," John announced before taking a seat in his usual chair watching's Sherlock's back. "Imagine that."

Sherlock continued to look out the window but stopped playing, "She's foolish. I used her, lied to her about everything, and nearly got her killed."

"But you also tried to protect her."

"It doesn't count when the killer was purposely missing the shot. …Anyways, it doesn't matter anymore, I booked her flight back to America for next week." Sherlock turned around and set his violin down, picking up a new rosin for his bow.

"You seem to be doing that a lot lately." John pointed out.

"What are you talking about John?" Mumbled Sherlock, not looking up from his bow.

"Waxing your little stick with those wax things she got you. You've nearly gone through have the box- and she only gave you it 2 weeks ago for Christmas."

"So what's your point, John? Are you just going to sit there and suggest you have something of importance to say or are you going to be useful and say it?" Sherlock snapped. John bit his lip, holding back his retort- he knew Sherlock was going through a hard time with this, even if he refused to admit it.

John sat in silence for a moment or two, fingering Madeline's necklace in the pocket of his pants, debating whether or not he should do this. "There's something I'm going to show you."

Sherlock continued to care for his bow as he set the rosin down; he sat down on his chair across from John's observing. _I don't wax them too much._ He though decidedly, refusing to see the waxy build up on the hairs making it slightly more difficult for him to play, but he insisted to himself that he wanted it to be like that.

John entered the room with a manila folder in his hands that he dropped on the table. John took his seat. "Going through Madeline's drawers?" Sherlock looked up at him with raised eyebrows and continued, "She seemed to trust the fact that you were in possession of the necklace that not only had the pendant from her parents on it- but that had the only key to opening up that dresser of hers- this is only further proof that she is constantly misguided in her trust of people."

"Shut up Sherlock. I feel bad enough that I'm doing this but I wanted you to see them before she leaves-"

"Why?"

"Because I think she's going to take them with her-"

"Yes, I know," Sherlock said curiously, "But why are you so intent on me seeing these?"

It took John a moment or two to search for the right words, trying to figure out the best way to say what he really wanted to say, "Because I need to know if I made a mistake." Sherlock squinted his eyes at him deducing certain amount of guilt in John ."I pushed her to date Dr. Jack for a _reason_-"

"Yes, I know." Sherlock's voice was casual and low; John looked up at him slightly upset at this admission.

"You… you know?"

"Yes, I do. Though you're quite certain that I do not understand basic human emotions, I do observe and perfect that observation into details-"

"So you know what these are then?" He asked pointing to the file on the table.

"I have a very accurate guess." Sherlock leaned back in his chair and rubbed his fingers over his lips in thought, "It's a little difficult to not notice someone when they're trying to paint you- even if they believe they're being sneaky- which in Madeline's case is not possible since the word _stealth_ does not exist in her vocabulary."

"So you made her believe you didn't notice even though you knew she was taking pictures of you, drawing you… and you let her?" John asked curiously, almost disbelieving.

Sherlock did not answer John's question, instead took a deep breath and continued on with his deductions, "you want to show me them without her knowing you did, you hate immensely that you're doing this but you can't help it, you need to know if you should regret having kept Madeline as far away from me as possible." John looked down and pursed his lips as Sherlock continued, "Whether if keeping her closer to me would have helped save her."

John stayed silent.

"You should know John, as I told you before- that the only thing keeping her alive was me pushing her from me. You adding that _doctor_ to the mix only helped her."

"…thank you Sh-"

"No, don't thank me." Sherlock said suddenly, John looked up at him confused, "I'm not telling you this to make you feel better, I'm telling you this because it is what is the truth."

A moment of silence passed between the two friends, the fire crackling bringing in a warmth into the suddenly quiet living room.

"Though that's just not all of it, is it?" John said, breaking the silence. Sherlock looked at him already knowing where John was going to go with this. "It's not hard to make the connection. Whether Madeline liked you or not- it didn't matter. Whether you liked Madeline or not- that _was_ the determining factor in all of this. …You, Sherlock Holmes, became _infatuated_ with this strange small town girl-"

"I'm not _infatuated!_" Spat Sherlock standing up with his violin and bow in hand. He turned his back quickly to John and faced the window again.

But John wasn't going to let this go, he knew what to not let Sherlock Holmes get away with- and denying having feelings was one of them. "You like her, Sherlock." He stated simply. "That's what got in the way. That's what put her in danger. That's what made her an asset for Moriarty rather than an asset to you. …That's what you never thought would happen- not to be expected for you in a million years… but it did. You became infatuated-"

"I said I'm not _infatuated _with her." Hissed Sherlock angrily before raising his violin to his shoulder.

"If she's not an infatuation- if she's not that _fleeting fancy_ that I'm assuming you see her as, then what is she?" John asked. "…What is she to you, Sherlock?"

Sherlock paused in the midst of raising his bow to his violin, his arm halfway in the air.

"I'm sorry she's leaving." John added softly.

Sherlock let the freshly waxed bow hit the strings, letting it glide over them as he closed his eyes playing his own original piece.

The clocks rung declaring it was midnight as John Watson watched his best friend play a tune to the night sky… a sad tune he'd never heard before.

* * *

_One Last Embrace. _

6 days later and Madeline was standing in 221B with her bags packed and her boarding pass ready in her hand. She looked around Sherlock Holmes' quiet room, not wanting to forget a bit of it.

"Madeline?" John's voice called from the kitchen, "You almost ready? We have to get you checked in before 4."

Madeline, unlike John had assumed she would do, decided to leave all of her photos and paintings and sketches behind, she felt that her memories of 221B would be painful enough in comparison to the boring life she was going to go back to living in Louisville, Colorado. A part of her knew that Sherlock knew of her girlish sketches of him. Now that she was leaving- she no longer felt embarrassed that he knew.

She did however take her necklace that her parents had given her, it laid around her neck; and she also took Danny's engagement ring, although she didn't know what she was going to do with it, she hadn't spoke to Danny since she left months ago- but he was the least of her worries. "Coming!" She replied.

Just as Madeline was about the open the door she came face to face with the coat- his coat that was hanging. _You won't get another chance like this…_

Madeline knew she shouldn't- but ever since she'd first met him, even though she'd despised him- she still wanted to.

She turned the lock on the doorknob quietly, locking the room. Slowly and carefully Madeline removed the heavy coat from its hook- immediately she was met with a surge of his scent. Slipping each of her arms through the holes she sighed, the silk felt incredible against her skin. The sleeves went well past her hands and the coat dragged on the floor, she looked like a child playing dress-up.

The coat felt warm, inviting- safe. Madeline closed her eyes, embracing the scent, the feel of it- of him. Just as she opened her eyes she caught sight of his infamous blue scarf lying on his bedside table. _No, don't do it, then he'll definitely know you did this… oh what the hell- he's already going to deduce I'm trying on his coat, might as well add the scarf and go all out. _She rationed.

Madeline sat on the side of his bed and lifted the soft scarf, wrapping it around her thin long neck twice. Madeline moaned softly closing her eyes- now she could really smell him- his cologne, his soap, everything. She felt so warm.

_Oh gosh, I'm so messed up, there must be something wrong with me…_ She thought. But as she laid back in his bed, embracing her body in Sherlock Holmes- she realized she didn't care.

She was leaving 221B, quite certainly she was sure for her safety- to never return.

To never be back in London.

To never be back in this flat.

To never be with John.

Lestrade.

Mrs. Hudson.

…To never be with _him_, to see _him_, to hear _his _voice-

Ever again.

_Knock, knock, knock._

"Madeline," John cooed from the other side of the door, "You almost done packing in there? You want me to come in and help?"

"No!" Madeline shouted sitting up in a flash, she didn't want John to try and open the door only to find it locked, he was too smart to not figure she was doing something absolutely absurdly ridiculous like she was doing right then if he did. "I'm coming! Promise!"

"Ok, I'll be waiting downstairs with Mrs. Hudson, she wants to say goodbye to you as well. I'll give you a minute or two up here to say goodbye to… well, to give you some privacy." John finished awkwardly before walking away.

Madeline's heart began to beat quickly in her chest as she disrobed herself of Sherlock's clothing, placing them back exactly as she found them. Even John knew she was going to need some privacy to say goodbye to Sherlock- _Have I really been that obvious? _But she rolled her eyes as she straightened out the sheet on his bed. _I just put on his clothes and rolled around on his bed- yeah, I'm that obvious. _

Madeline grabbed the handle of her luggage and took a deep breath before walking out of his bedroom.

This was going to be the last time she was going to see Sherlock Holmes.

* * *

_A Farewell to Remember. _

Sherlock sat in his chair dressed in his suit, his violin in his lap as he plucked randomly at the strings. A pile of used up rosins on the table next to him- the box empty and fully used, his bow now far too slippery to perform with.

Madeline stood directly in front of him waiting for his eyes to acknowledge her, but he continued to stare towards the floor by her feet.

"My flight leaves soon." She said awkwardly.

"Yes, I know, I booked it." He spoke suddenly in his usual monotone finally looking up at her.

Madeline stood sadly. In the past she would try to hide her true emotions from Sherlock, but now… now she didn't care. As she looked at him, watched this sculpture of a man- this masterpiece, sit and pluck she found all of her fears go away as she was reminded, once more, that this may be the last time she would ever see him. "Th…thank you, again, for trying to save me-"

"-I didn't save you from anything. Silly girl with your silly fantasies." He snapped suddenly, looking up at her with hard eyes- harder than usual.

If this was her first meeting him- she would have gotten angry and upset. But after having lived with Sherlock Holmes for 3 months, she knew this was his method of coping. She meant what she said earlier- she didn't believe that she meant nothing to him.

Not anymore.

"You said the same thing to me when you made fun of me for reading _Emma _when I first moved in here, remember? …You didn't seem to mind my so-called fantasies when you read me _Pride and Prejudice_ everyday that I was unconscious in the hospital."

Sherlock gave her a stare that could freeze beer. He knew John had told her, he didn't like that she knew and probably didn't like that he'd done it on his own impulse, either. It was so out of character for him and yet… he bought the book and he read to her every night and day for a week.

_Sentiment._ He hissed in his head.

Madeline continued to stare at Sherlock as he looked away and back down to his violin. He was a right bastard, an arrogant asshole who aspired to be machine-like… but she knew him now. She knew he was human- _so human_. This brought her closer to him and she felt a sadness grow inside her, a longing, an ache to stay and never leave not caring if she was as good as dead.

_Don't be a fool Madeline… you have a life to live._

The sadness, she realized as she began to walk away from him, was remorse- and sorrow.

Remorse for not having followed her emotions even with the likely probability of his rejection- and sorrow for the fact that she'd been denying her true feelings for him until right in that moment when he sat before her, turned his head to the side, and stared at the fireplace his violin going limp in his hands. Right then Madeline decided, her heart beating wildly and her palms sweating-

No more. It was now or never.

_I'll regret nothing._

Sherlock turned his head away from the fireplace and looked up surprised at Madeline as he felt his violin being taken from his hands.

Suddenly she slid her knees on both sides of his thighs, sliding herself onto his lap, sitting her bum down softly on his knees.

Madeline's heart, much to her surprise, became calm at contact with him; it was quiet, and patient.

As she looked at his wide eyes that were staring back into hers, she was pleasantly surprised to find that as the seconds ticked by- he wasn't doing anything to stop her. His chest heaved up and down, his breathing heavy.

He was letting this happen, so was she.

Sherlock attempted to open his mouth to speak (to say what exactly, he didn't know), but his opportunity was lost as Madeline placed her fingertips atop his lips. She shook her head, her long brown hair making its way in strands in front of her face.

Sherlock had a sudden urge to brush them away. But he found his body was frozen in place- as was his ability to deduct. His mind went numb letting the aching in his chest take over for once in his life.

"Shhh." Madeline said softly, removing her hand. "This time neither of us is going to do the talking."

Madeline was barely in control of her body as her hands came into a life of their own- relieved that they could discover what they had wanted to feel for so long- ever since she first laid eyes on him.

Her hands caressed starting from his cheekbones- those cheekbones she'd kissed twice, moved over his jaw, up and down the crevice of his smooth cheeks, over his forehead and into his hair of dark curls.

Involuntarily- Sherlock's eyes closed, he let out a deep sigh that seemed like he'd been holding for decades.

Madeline's fingertips ran their way down his face and she bit her lip as they finally came into contact with his lips yet again. She stared at them, barely noticing that Sherlock opened his eyes to stare back at her.

Her thumb ran across his bottom lip- so full and luscious. She felt his warm breath against her fingertips and could hold back no longer.

Madeline looked back into Sherlock's eyes as they searched in hers anxiously, wanting to find answers in them. She licked her lips and as she did so his eyes darted to them only to quickly draw themselves back up to meet her. Sherlock's heart was beating vividly and wildly in his chest- a feeling he'd rarely experienced in his life.

Madeline felt herself lean forward, his head unconsciously tilting to the side to accommodate her. As she inched closer and closer, she could smell him, feel his warmth, and anticipate the touch of him. Each of their energy's forcing their way towards each other like magnets.

Finally, their mouths touched. Madeline nearly moaned at the sensation; Sherlock's lips tingled when she pressed her full lips against his. It was a sensation unlike anything he'd felt before. She pulled back for a moment and they both opened their eyes, only an inch away. Neither gave any inclination to pull away or stop- both wanted more. Desperate for more- so gravity pulled them back together. This time Sherlock leaned his head up making her gasp as he forced his lips on hers, parting them sweetly with his.

As Madeline's lips made work on his, she found a pair of large warm hands sneak up the back of her shirt and press themselves into the small of her back, pushing her forward on his lap until her flat stomach was flush against his hard chest. She moaned and held onto him by burying her fingers in his soft hair, refusing to let him go.

Sherlock kissed her back vigorously, his hands rejecting any indication of letting her go- his fingertips were long and strong. They made little patterns on her back sending tingles straight up her spine.

A light groan in his chest could be heard when their tongues first touched. Unlike the verbal battles and spats they usually had- their tongues had a different connection as they glided against each other, both of them opening their mouths wider to accommodate the other.

Madeline nearly cried out as she heard him whisper her name in between a kiss.

That had pushed her over the edge- Nothing had ever been so bittersweet.

She pulled away from his face, both of their lips swollen, both breathing heavily; her hands slipped down to his chest while his remained still under her shirt on her bare back holding her tightly in place as she bowed her head down to his shoulder and began to lightly sob for the man she was losing.

In other situations, Sherlock Holmes resented the crying, but in this he found himself holding her. His arms wrapped all the way around her as he held her close. He could feel his shirt grow damp with her tears- but he found he didn't care. _Madeline, Madeline, Madeline…_ was all he could think, sorrow filling him to the brim, his lips still tingling. He could still taste her sweet taste on his tongue.

For the first time in a_ very_ long time- Sherlock Holmes felt helpless sorrow.

She buried her face in his warm neck, her lips finding refuge in the crease where this neck met his shoulder. Madeline opened her wet eyes and began to breathe deeply, inhaling his wonderful, perfect scent that only made her want to weep. She knew she had to contain herself.

Her flight was leaving.

She was leaving.

And if she didn't hurry up soon, she'd miss her flight out of there.

A flight, that she was certain right then, as she pulled back and looked at his softened face, would be the death of her.

A flight that he booked in order to help her live.

To live her life.

A safe life-

_A life without Sherlock Holmes. _

The tears dripped down her cheeks as she pulled back. They stared at one another in silence.

It was like she was seeing Sherlock for the first time. His eyes were soft and inviting, like she'd never seen them before. Sherlock had _finally_ opened himself to someone- to her.

"I have to leave now." Madeline whispered, her voice shaking. She looked straight into his warm blue, green, honey eyes and barely spoke, "Goodbye, Sherlock Holmes."

Sherlock found he couldn't respond. As she moved off of him, ever little indication that she was getting farther and farther from him seemed to infuriate him. He nearly had to pry his hands off of her warm soft back as she left his lap, his legs suddenly cold. A fire raging in his chest as he watched her leave.

Madeline stood up on her shaky legs and found she could no longer look at him without feeling pain, the tears and sobs built up in her throat again. She grabbed her suitcase and rolled it behind her.

Down the stairs of 221B she quietly sobbed as she walked away. Walked away from a man like no other. A man that made his own rules, a man that could never be replicated even with the best of efforts. A man that, even she couldn't deny anymore, she truly, deeply, intensely and completely …loved.

She closed the front door behind not caring she was meeting John and Mrs. Hudson with a swollen face- for she knew she was never to return to 221B again.

Sherlock continued to sit frozen, his chest clenched at the quiet sobs on the stairs, he heard the front door close quietly, his fingers shaking.

Sherlock swallowed, he'd long denied it- in fact, **since he first met her**- **_he knew what he felt_**.

And it had frightened him to death. Not just for the obvious reasons.

But now, it didn't matter anymore. She was gone, and he knew that it would be safest if she were to never see him again. Those… feelings that were inside of him- _that_ feeling, he would never have to outwardly admit it now.

He was back to his old life. A life before Madeline Smith… The artist. The ballerina. … The eater.

Sherlock Holmes hated change- Madeline had been that big change. And now he _was_ surrounded by his usual things, those things that brought him comfort- his violin, his robe, John's chair… happiness should have become him. Much to his surprise- it did not.

Sorrow became him.

All he could see were the used rosins on his table, the bullet hole in the floor, the painting above the fireplace, the place in which she danced and she'd thought he wasn't looking, the smell of her scent mixed with his on his skin, the tingling of his lips after she'd sweetly kissed them.

All he could see, feel, remember, hear and smell in 221B… was _her_.

It was too late now. He was cold.

His inconvenient change… was gone.

"Goodbye, Madeline Smith."

**Fin. **

* * *

**So sad... I know. **

**I hope you all enjoyed part 1! I had such a hard time trying to perfect each part and each character because there is so much information and changes happening in this chapter- it is like the climax for the whole part so I _really_ hope it was not confusing... and I hope I did it justice. **

**Thank you to all of those who have read and commented. I have to say I am hoping that more of you will want to comment now that we've reached the end of part 1! Yayayay!**

**IMPORTANT INFORMATION BELOW: **

**The title of Part 2 is: **_Blind Endeavours- Part 2:_ _Symphony No. 5 in C Minor. _

**It will be up as soon as possible I've already started on it so PLEASE- **

**MAKE SURE you're doing one or both of these things: **

**-Following/being alerted to me as an _Author_ so you can see when I post a new story- this is the preferred option especially since this story is coming to a close now. **

**-Or make sure you're being alerted on this story at the very least, because I'll be posting an extra "chapter" page here in pt.1 to alert when part 2 is up. **

**All of the accompanying bits- including the classical piece and poster for it will be up on my page soon. **

**I adore you Sherlockians and Cumberbabes to bits and pieces. I hope my fic is doing its part in making the time between now and season 3 a bit easier on you. **

**Please do comment on either this chapter itself or the story as a whole- Or both! **

**It's so easy, just type in that little white box right down there and I'll cherish it forever.**

Infinite love,

Wiz-Chic.


	16. Sequel now up! Part 2

New story is up!

It's here!

**BLIND ENDEAVOURS: Part 2: Symphony No. 5 in C Minor.**

I'm not allowed to post links on here so go to my main author page and go from there.

See you there!

Wiz-Chic


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